Hogwarts: A University of Excellency
by sandylanewrites
Summary: Hogwarts, a British University of high academic excellence, only accepts the best of the best. Hermione finds herself thrown into a world of rich kids, aristocracy backgrounds, and University life. And whilst she finds herself settled in no time at all, a certain blonde-haired boy is too compelling to stay away from. No magic, but a heart-wrenching Draco and Hermione love story.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Look it's fine, I really don't need that many clothes, Hogwarts has uniform anyway," Hermione groaned to her mother, as she violently tugged at the suitcase. The zip didn't seem to want to budge, and small tufts of fabric over spilt between the seams. The last-minute preparation was stressful and very uncharacteristic, yet the nerves of beginning university 200 miles away from home had led to a serious amount of procrastination. Secondary school may have been a breeze in regards to her academics, but making friends and fitting in within new environments offered far more of a challenge.

_What if no one likes me again?_

"Darling, it's going to be okay, you'll have the best time. The university is known for its prestige and successful academics. It'll be filled with bright intelligent souls just like you," the comforting words coming from her mother was exactly what she needed to hear, and she knew that her mum was right. Hogwarts, a famous British university hidden within acres of forest and privately owned land, had been her dream choice since the early years of school. Being one of the hardest universities to be offered a place from, Hermione knew how proud all those around her were, and felt blessed to be so lucky. Still, the pressure to succeed had already begun weighing down on her, and she hadn't even arrived yet.

Mr Granger walked over, pulled the zip closed, scooped up the bag, and begun to make his way towards the car. One other large suitcase had already been placed in the boot, filled with Hermione's book collection, a periodic table poster, and a few framed photos of her and her family.

"Is that everything?" he called out as he made his way out the front door, leaving Hermione and her mother to stand to stare at her old empty room. Her walls looked bare and her bookshelf had emptied.

"I think that's everything," she said quietly to herself, and her mother nodded and pulled her into a hug.

"Hermione I am so proud of you," her voice was filled with pure love, and whilst every mother finds it hard accepting their daughter must leave home, Mrs Granger couldn't help the tears welling up in her eyes.

The car ride was unbearably long, with the feeling of excitement making every second seem longer, but the dread making every minute pass in a flash. The view of the motorway had been replaced by the view of trees and fields, with the GPS guiding them to what seemed like the middle of nowhere. Hermione sat in the backseat with a school brochure on her lap, alongside an information leaflet and a map of the grounds. She had studied the map before in a lot of detail, trying to visualise the winding corridors, the possible layout of the classrooms, and the beautiful architecture of the library. Her accommodation lay in the east-wing of the main castle, and the map indicated that the rooms were clustered around a common room for socialising with other students. Floors separated fresher's from seniors, but girls and boys were mixed amongst floors. Having only been to a girl's grammar school, the thought of living with boys sent an anxious feeling down her throat.

Her accommodation had been decided by those who interviewed her before receiving an offer, apparently based on the characteristics one displays whilst engaging and answering questions. The accommodation had a bizarre name, Gryffindor, yet a beautiful lion design coloured in gold and red. She flicked through the brochure, pausing at the photos of those dressed in the Gryffindor uniform; the red and gold trimmings on the sweater, the same coloured tie, and the red collar on the cape. The concept of uniforms at universities was unheard of, yet Hermione felt comforted knowing that she wasn't going to be judged for her 'unfashionable' clothing choices.

"Wow look at that," Mr Granger acclaimed, pointing out the window to the glimpse of the magnificent building. Hermione's head snapped up from the brochure to out the window where the castle was slowly approaching, and she gasped at the sight. Pictures didn't do it justice. It towered above every tree and had its own magical aurora, with the stones seeming to glisten under the sunlight.

"Looks like you have a far more beautiful place to call home," Mrs Granger said, gaping out her window beside the front seat.

"Don't be ridiculous mum, a home will always be with you," Hermione responded, squeezing her mum's shoulder with her hand, then returning to press her face against the glass.

The grounds were hectic with over a hundred cars making their way up to the castle, and it took a while until their car got to a close enough distance to get out. Helpers were dotted around, clearly different from the freshers by their authentic and traditional Hogwarts uniform. Hermione spotted one close hovering around in a green and silver uniform, which must have meant they belonged to the Slytherin accommodation.

"Hi, sorry to bother you, where do I go?"

"Oh hi love, welcome to Hogwarts. Parents aren't allowed inside so make sure you say bye to them here, and then a helper will help you get your bags to the right room. Do you know what accommodation you're in?"

"Yes, Gryffindor," Hermione responded proudly, but the information seemed to wipe the smile of the older girls face. Her pretty features automatically seemed to scowl without even realising, and her eyes started darting around as though she was looking for someone.

"Jenny, Jenny!" she called out having fixed her eyes on someone, causing a petite girl in the red and gold uniform to turn around.

"Yes, Jenny, Come here!" The statement made the girl start to walk over, a much warmer and friendlier smile on her face than the girl currently standing in front. Hermione just stood awkwardly and confused, not realising what was going on.

"Jenny, this fresher is meant to be in Gryffindor. Be a doll and help her to her room, I'm going to try to find someone belonging to Slytherin instead," Hermione couldn't help but feel insulted that this person didn't want to help her based on her accommodation, and her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment to the situation. How rude.

"Hi nice to meet you, my names Jenny. Honestly, Gryffindor is the best house, don't listen to Tess. Bit of rivalry between houses you see. Oh by the way, we call the accommodation we're allocated to a house, as you become a big family. Cute, right?"

Jenny seemed much friendlier anyway, with a warm face framed by a silky smooth brown bob just under her ears. The wide smile revealed a small gap between her front teeth, and her cheeks bulged out from her face as she talked.

"Hello, I'm Hermione, its lovely to meet you."

"Well let's get you settled in and mingle. Why don't you grab your bags from your parents and say goodbye."

Saying goodbye was emotional, especially as seeing her mother's eyes tear up was a horrible sight to see. But adrenaline from being in a new environment had already kicked in, and the jittery feeling meant Hermione couldn't standstill. She wanted to explore the castle grounds, move her belongings into her room, but most importantly couldn't wait to see the library.

She grabbed her two suitcases and dragged them behind her as Jenny guided them towards the accommodation. Jenny was bubbly and chatted the whole way, explaining how much Hermione was going to love studying here, and how she'd meet her 'best friends for life'. She went on to say it wasn't the usual British university experience, with the intense academic and boarding school-like atmosphere, yet the close campus life meant that relationships ran deep and friendship groups become families. Furthermore, a degree from Hogwarts was universally known and respected.

The infrastructure appeared to be carved out of grey stone, framed with arches and intricate detail. The staircases were wide and steep, and the walls displayed framed photos of former students and sports teams. Hermione felt as though their beaming faces followed her as she walked.

The prospectus had made it clear that Lacrosse was the signature sport, which explained the glass cabinets filled with trophies and battered balls. Hermione herself had not been part of a sports team, hence she let her mind wander and take in the view as Jenny spoke of her involvement with the team.

"Honestly, everyone becomes involved in Lacrosse, even though most students don't particularly show an interest before coming to Hogwarts. You'll find yourself cheering on the teams and getting involved in no time. That and Polo. Obviously, with people's backgrounds Polo is massive here. I guess it feels like flying in the air whilst chasing a ball, how spectacular!"

Once again, Hermione had no interest in Polo. Her background was fairly average, and with both parents being dentists, she didn't exactly pop down to the Polo club on weekends. Yet she was well aware of the stereotypical student here, estimating that around 70% of the students came from affluent backgrounds, whilst 10% from aristocracy heritage. Even the new freshers walking around looked sophisticated, wearing attire that someone having afternoon tea at the Ritz would wear.

"I'm probably going to spend more time studying this term than on sports if I'm honest. Sports isn't my thing."

"Oh don't be so ridiculous, I won't have that. Term one is all about settling in and making friends. You won't make many with your nose buried in books now will you dear," Jenny let out a laugh, dismissing Hermione's words as though they were utter nonsense. There wasn't much she could retaliate to that, so instead she stayed quiet and let Jenny continue rambling on.

The Gryffindor common room looked old and tattered at the edges, yet felt full of life and character. The red plush sofas had clearly been worn in, with the previous vibrant colour having faded, yet the cushions appeared brand new and were beautiful with gold embroidery. A large portrait was hung in the centre of the room, which Hermione assumed was the founder, and took centre stage of the room's decorations. With barely any windows the room was only lit with dim lighting, making space appear small yet cosy and warm. Hermione could picture herself tucked up on a sofa, head buried in a book and a warm tea by her side. This is close enough to perfect for me.

Another student, clearly belonging to the Gryffindor house, was sat just inside the entrance, her fingers tapping away on the MacBook in front of her. The laptop looked strangely funny placed on top of the antique wooden table; as though both elements belonged in completely different eras.

"Lauren I've got a newbie for you. Can you register Hermione… Sorry I didn't get your last name?"

"Hermione Granger"

"Can you register Hermione Granger and get me a room key for her."

The girl smiled and said 'of course' as she tapped something into the laptop, then rummaged in a drawer to find the room key. Hermione expected an actual key on a string but instead was given a small plastic card with her name already written and the number of the room. Corridor C 2B. She hoped Jenny wasn't going to abandon her here to figure out the rest alone, as she had no idea what those numbers and letters meant.

"So here at Hogwarts we each have this card that we refer to as our wand, silly I know. But if you wave or tap the card outside your doorknob it should automatically open up for you, so I'd advise you to not lose it. We charge five pounds for replacement. You can also transfer money onto it, and use it to buy food or drink around campus." Lauren's explanation was clearly well-rehearsed, and Hermione smiled and slipped the card into the pocket of her jeans.

"Thanks, Lauren I'll catch you after I get her settled in. Room C 2B right? That's close to my last year room." Realising that Jenny wasn't just going to leave was a huge relief, and Hermione happily followed her through the common room and up the stairs. Lugging 2 heavy suitcases appeared to be quite the challenge, but the distance between the common room and her new room was conveniently close.

Hermione stood outside the door and took a deep breath. The thought that this was now going to be her home suddenly hit, and she felt the nerves down to the tips of her toes. For some reason, opening the door made saying goodbye to her old room feel ever-more final.

The door was nothing special, just large and wooden. The door handle was sphere-shaped and golden, apart from the tip that had a small touchscreen sensor. The door was one of ten in a corridor, which typically encompassed five girls and five boys. Apparently, she was the third person moving in today, but Jenny hadn't met the others. She said to not expect everyone to be outgoing and talkative, as a lot of people are quiet and quite reserved during freshers week. Hermione didn't want to say that she was most likely to be one of those quiet and reserved freshers.

"Well open up, I want to see the room again, It's going to make me so nostalgic."

Hermione fumbled in her pocket and pulled out the card, tapped it against the handle, and pushed open the door. It looked exactly like the brochure photos. A large single was pressed against the right wall, and a desk was pressed against the left. The floors were wooden, the walls painted fresh white, the window let in a large beam of light. It just looked so empty and clinical, and whilst it was the most modern-looking space she had seen yet, It looked nothing like home.

"Oh your rooms so small, how unlucky. If you pay the university a bit extra they usually try to accommodate a bigger room. Are you a scholarship pupil by any chance?"

The way Jenny phrased it wasn't rude, but Hermione couldn't help but feel embarrassed with the situation she had found herself in. She had been proud of telling people about the scholarship before, but suddenly the topic wasn't something she wanted to be boastful about. Her cheeks flushed, and she nervously wrapped a curl around her finger.

"Yes, I actually won an award for being top of my school, and so Hogwarts offered me a discounted price to make sure I placed them as my first choice. Quite a rare situation really…" Hermione knew she was bragging out of being defensive, but Jenny didn't seem that impressed anyway.

"Mmm, you must be very smart. Anyway, I'm going to leave you to unpack and get settled in, and they'll be a small mixer with other Gryffindor freshers in about two hours. Only about half the students arrive on the first day, so it's a great chance to get to know people without feeling intimidated. Plus, you can't say no to free beer."

Hermione smiled and thanked her for all the help, and Jenny enveloped her into a hug.

"Don't feel shy, honestly you're going to love it here. I'll bring you along to a pre-drink before a night out with my friends. Second years have to move out of the main castle and into other accommodation, but it's not too far to get to."

"That sounds great thanks," Hermione couldn't really picture herself on a night out, but she still appreciated the offer.

"Also, maybe don't mention the scholarship thing much at the start, students can be a bit funny about it. Some individuals who pay the full price can get quite sour that others aren't required to pay, and you can imagine it gets quite nasty. Especially from Slytherin. They use the word muggle for it, so just don't take it to heart."

Hermione's face blushed red again, but she thanked Jenny for the advice and said she would do her best to not take it personally. It sounded like a very trivial and childish mindset for university students to have, yet each to their own. As Hermione watched Jenny leave, she couldn't help but wonder whether Jenny had the same opinion or not.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Hermione stuck the few photos she had packed on the bare walls and placed the periodic poster on the side beside her bed. Before she went to sleep she'd be able to scan over the elements to make sure didn't slack behind in chemistry class. She knew it seemed nerdy, but it wasn't as if she was bringing any boys back anyway. She stacked the previously bought textbooks needed for the year on her desk and the rest as a pile on the floor. She made a mental note that she was going to need to order a bookshelf of some type, but that was a task for another day.

She wondered over to the mirror and looked at her appearance with a blank expression, analysing the stress-induced bags under her eyes, and the frizzed up curls that had somehow awoken from her head and displayed a life of their own. She scooped up some from both sides and tied a small section into a ponytail to try to tame the mess, lifting it out of her face. Her skin was pale enough to make her look slightly ill and emphasised the freckles scattered over her nose, and so she applied some mascara to draw attention to her green eyes instead. Whilst Hermione was not overly concerned with her appearance, she wanted to make a good first impression amongst her fellow students. During her arrival, she remembered the made-up girls, in their high heels, swishy skirts, and expensive-looking blouses. Their hair either seemed to fall flat like sheets of silk or in tamed curls straight off a hot iron. Staring in the mirror she couldn't help but wish there was a spell to make her more beautiful.

Hermione waited till her watch hit exactly 3 o'clock before leaving her room and starting the journey to the common room. Just as she closed her door, she saw the back of a boys head exiting the room opposite. His hair was dark and too long to be considered a neat groom, and when he turned around a pair of round glasses were the first thing she noticed. At first, he looked surprised to see her, but he quickly composed his facial expression into a happy smile.

"Oh hello there, I'm Harry. Don't suppose you're on your way to the Gryffindor mixer " he said whilst extending his hand for her to shake.

"Hermione, and yes, yes I am" she replied smiling, relieved that her neighbour appeared to be a friendly person. She wondered how many times she was going to have to tell people what her name was during the freshers week.

"Ah amazing, cause I definitely don't know where I'm walking too. Lead the way roomie."

It was a relief knowing she wasn't going to arrive at the mixer alone, especially as it meant not standing awkwardly whilst everyone mingled around her. Hopefully, Harry wouldn't leave her the second they arrived. Harry was both talkative and nervous, chatting about how his previous boarding school experience meant he was used to living away from home, yet was worried about the intensity of his economics course. There was no doubt that the boy must have been smart to get accepted into Hogwarts, yet it was common knowledge that the school was especially tough to succeed in. Hermione didn't mention her parents were dentists, or that she was on scholarship, and instead tried to keep Harry talking about himself. She asked if he was interested in sport, and he replied that he was most definitely going to try to get on the lacrosse team.

Harry's phone pinged, and he excused himself as he quickly checked the message on his phone. A boy he had met in the morning called Ron had sent a text explaining he would be 10 minutes late and would meet him inside. Hermione wondered whether Harry was the social type who would end up being known all over campus, or whether he was more like her and kept to a small close group.

The common room had been decorated with a banner that read 'welcome freshers' and balloons in the gold and red colours were scattered around. A long table was filled with pints of beer with a sign labelled butter beer stuck on the front. Students were scattered around holding pints, chatting in small groups, and there was quiet background music playing through speakers to create an atmosphere.

"It's so awkward isn't it, putting a bunch of strangers in a room together and expecting them to make friends. What do you think of the place so far?"

"Oh I agree, I feel so uncomfortable in these situations. But the University is just beyond beautiful. Above anything I ever expected," Hermione replied, and she and Harry discussed trivial topics such as the architecture, the rooms, and how they thought the week was going to play out. The more he spoke, the more she decided she liked him, and she hoped he thought the same about her. Half-way through a conversation, the room went quiet and an elderly professor entered through the door. Hermione turned so she could be attentive, and the professor started speaking.

"Hello all, and welcome to the Gryffindor house. My name is Miss McGonagall, and I would like to congratulate you on the high academical success in enrolling to Hogwarts. I do not doubt that you'll thoroughly enjoy your time here."

As she spoke Hermione noticed a tall ginger boy to her left staring directly at her instead of paying attention to the professor. Hermione couldn't help but panic whether there was something on her face, or whether he found her so out of place he couldn't stop himself from looking. Either way, she hoped he would cut it out quickly and instead pay attention to the welcome speech.

"We have a fun timetable of events and activities throughout the week to help you get comfortable, which you can come collect from the front on your way out. I must also request you pick up your uniform sometime this week, and lectures start next week Monday. Here at Hogwarts, we believe in balance; an all-rounded graduate will succeed in balancing their academics, sport, and their social life. I wish you all a great freshers week, and good luck in settling in." The room applauded once she finished, and she gave the room a brief smile before walking back out. Hermione looked to her left and frowned, noticing the boy still had his eyes fixated on her. This time she seemed to make eye-contact, and that was the signal he needed to make a beeline.

"Hello again," he said, which Hermione found odd as she had never seen him before. She opened her mouth to question it when she heard Harry address him by his name.

"Hey Ron, took your time didn't you mate. This is Hermione, shes in the room opposite." Hermione had completely forgotten that they were waiting for this boy, and she felt like a bit of an idiot assuming he had been looking at her. He had probably just been picking out Harry from the crowd. She also noticed how Harry referred to her as merely a neighbour and not a friend, but pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

"Lovely to meet you, Hermione. Yeah, I got a bit lost on my way down, every corridor looks the same. Shit, I want one of those, where can I get one from?" Ron asked pointing at the beer in Hermione's hand.

"Just at the table over there. You can have mine if you want, I don't like the taste," the boys sarcastically and rather dramatically gasped at her statement of not liking beer, then Ron teased her on her "inadequate taste buds" whilst taking the pint glass. The boys seemed to get on like a house on fire already, with any outsider assuming they had known each other for years, bouncing off each other's humour. And whilst Hermione felt slightly like a third wheel, both made a big effort including her and asking questions to know her better.

Ron was a very open person, chatting about his home life and family in between big gulps of beer. Hermione learnt that he was one of seven children, with one being a sister a year younger, and one set of twins. He claimed he wasn't very smart, and thought that the reason he got an offer was due to his whole family having been Hogwarts students. He wasn't on scholarship due to wealthy grandparents but thought he deserved one with the strain the university was going to have on his parent's bank account. Hermione admitted to her partial scholarship and Harry confessed he was on a full-one, which drained the sense of embarrassment Hermione had filled up. It seemed as though Jenny had just exaggerated.

Similarly to Harry, he couldn't wait to try out for the Lacrosse team and seemed rather confident he'd make it. He made a point of saying he had just broken up with his girlfriend because he didn't want to do long-distance and glanced at Hermione as he claimed he had lost feelings before anyway. Harry's girlfriend Cho Chang was going to visit next weekend, and Hermione admitted to never having had a proper boyfriend.

"I don't believe that for a second, a pretty girl like you has never had a boyfriend? No way, the worlds gone mad!" Ron exclaimed with a cheeky grin, causing her to blush a deep shade of red.

"Guess I've just always been busy with work," she stuttered, not knowing whether to justify herself or thank him.

"Well lectures don't start for another week, so that means we get you for at least 7 days," he said, and Hermione wondered whether the beer was making him more confident or whether he was just like this. Either way, she liked it.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron talked until other students started to leave, emptying the room and giving them space to move over to a couch. The light streaming through the window was beginning to dim, indicating that is was starting to get a bit later, but Hermione didn't want to leave just yet. Weirdly, she felt a sense of belonging sitting on the plush sofa chatting away with the two boys. Ron walked to the exit, grabbed a freshers timetable, then returned to the sofa, almost throwing himself down. He wriggled around to get comfy, and Hermione felt his leg brush up against hers a bit too close.

"So team, are we going out tonight? They're holding a freshers party in the dining hall. I'm keen," Ron said whilst studying the piece of paper in his hand, and Hermione shifted. Going out wasn't really her thing.

"Think I'll give it a miss, I'm rather tired," Hermione said, and she noticed Ron's expression drop a little. It picked up when Harry said he wanted to, and they decided they'd drink beforehand in Harry's room to be close to Hermione's room too. A voice in the back of her mind told her she'd be missing out on bonding with them, but she knew if she went she'd constantly be thinking about leaving.

They made their way back, each holding two pints so the boys could drink for free, and arrived at Harry's room. Hermione followed them in, deciding to stay a little bit before going to her room and continue unpacking. Harry's walls were still bare, and his suitcase was unzipped with clothes sprawled around and on the floor. Clearly not an organised or tidy character.

"Sorry, mind the mess," he said, pushing off some belongings on the bed onto the floor. Harry and Ron sat on the bed and Hermione took the desk chair until she decided to excuse herself. She had no idea how long she had stayed, but It had become dark outside, and Harry and Ron were going out in a moment anyway. The alcoholic flush was present on both their faces and their eyes had become slightly hooded, with their laughs louder and every occasional world slightly slurred.

"Oh hold up, I've got Harry's number so I should probably also get yours," Ron said as she got up to leave, extending over his phone. She smiled, typed it in, then handed it back.

"Have a good night guys, I'll see you tomorrow," she said then walked the 3 steps it took to get to her room. She tapped her card, entered, and then stood alone in her room. Her watch said 10:30 pm, too early to sleep yet she had committed to staying in. She thought about getting ready for bed and grabbing a book, but then remembered how much she wanted to explore the library and see the famous and ancient collection of originals and classics Hogwarts was known for. Furthermore, the lateness would mean the library would be empty; just how she liked it.

She grabbed the map from her desk and made her way out.

The darkness masked the beauty of the architecture inside the library, yet there were bookshelves as far as the eye could see, all neatly stacked with books, their hardcover spine in beautiful condition. The ceilings were high, the columns added depth, yet the floor space was plentiful. It was an exquisite library. It was empty and silent, to the point where she could only hear her breathing and the beat of her heart, and she walked trailing a finger along with the books. At least, she thought it was empty.

"Hello."

Hermione spun around, feeling as though her heart had jumped out of her chest and into her throat, gushing an apology whilst she did so.

"Oh my goodness I am so sorry."

Hermione didn't understand why exactly her first reaction was to apologise; she had every right to be in the library as the next person, and she wasn't doing anything wrong. It was something about his tone of voice; cold, emotionless, yet the word also sounded like it demanded an answer.

The boy stood a couple of steps away from her, his back resting against the shelf, his arms crossed against his chest. One eyebrow was raised as though he was judgmentally staring whilst waiting for an answer, and she couldn't help but notice the piercing grey-ish blue colour his eyes were. Hermione noticed his robes were pushed up at the sleeves, revealing a skull and snake tattoo along his forearm, and she deducted he was a Slytherin in one of the upper years.

"What are you doing here?"

Hermione thought about telling him it was none of his business, but the library was dark, and the way he was looking at her made her not want to get on his bad side.

"Oh I was just admiring the books," she said quietly.

"I assumed you were lost," his accent sounded as though he took etiquette classes with the queen, with every syllable precisely pronounced.

"No no I'm not, just having a wander," she stuttered. He took a step closer.

"Arrive today?" He took another step.

"Y-y-yes." Why was he getting closer? Hermione tried to take a step back, but she was already against the bookshelf.

"Didn't fancy the fresher party?" He took a final step, pushing his blonde hair off his face. He extended his arm to rest on the bookshelf behind her head, and she was frozen in place staring up at him. He must have been at least six foot, as he had to tilt his head down just to look at her. His features were undoubtedly handsome, with a chiselled jawline and high arching cheekbones.

"N-n-no," her words came out as more of a whisper.

"I assumed so. You don't look the type," he said, pushed himself off the bookshelf, then took a few steps back. Bit of a rude statement, but Hermione was glad he was no longer an inch away from her face and she could breathe again. She hadn't even realised she was holding her breath.

"What on earth is that meant to mean?" she huffed, watching his eyes rake over her body. He did it slowly and purposely, making sure she noticed in an obvious attempt to make her uncomfortable. She wondered what judgements he had made just by looking at her.

"Not a Slytherin...Hufflepuff?" This boy was rude, obnoxious, and judgemental, reminding Hermione of how dismissive the Slytherin in the morning had been. When partaking in the Hogwarts interviews, did they note down every rude individual and put them in a house together?

"Gryffindor."

"Interesting. I need you to leave now, I'm in charge of locking up and you're in here after hours," his tone suggested he didn't find the news interesting at all. Hermione had been sure the library was open to all students 24/7, yet she wasn't going to question him, and she was rather keen to wrap up the conversation and make a quick exit anyway. Something about him made goosebumps rise on her arms, and her insides shiver.

"Well, that's my queue to leave then," she stated but didn't move, as though she was waiting for him to say something more. His eyes were fixated on her, his mouth slanted into a slight frown. Then he raised an eyebrow, the motion asking her what she was still doing here, and It snapped her legs into action carrying her towards the exit.

When she reached the door she turned around to take a final look and saw him leaning back against the same bookcase, his head tilted down and a bright light from his phone screen lit up his face. He didn't look as though he was in any hurry to lock up. She briskly walked through the corridors before he caught her staring.


	3. Chapter 3

Just before you read the chapter I want to say thank you to those who have reviewed and followed the story so far! I'm kind of making it up as I go along so any suggestions are valued! Also drug warning- its the closest link I could think of with dark magic.

Chapter 3:

Draco blankly stared at his screen until he heard the door shut, then looked up to check the girl was gone. What type of fresher spent her first night 'admiring books' in the library? Absolute nonsense. Draco tried to think of any other reasons she might be at the library this hour, possibly for a public hook-up, yet she didn't look the type and it was only the first day of arrivals. Surely no-one could whore themselves out that quickly, yet Draco could think of a couple of girls in his year that most certainly would.

His phone began to ring, and he pressed it against his ear.

"Coast clear Malfoy?"

"Come on through Crabbe. Be quick."

He had expected his business to be done by now, as there was no need for anyone to be in the library, yet the random fresher had thrown his timing off. Crabbe's heavy footsteps echoed amongst the library's walls, quickly approaching the spot where Draco sat.

"What's it like?" he asked when he got near, already having taken a note out his wallet.

"Try it and judge for yourself," Draco replied, not wanting to admit to Crabbe how long it had been since he dabbled with it. Once getting involved it seemed like there was no turning back, but Draco was well aware of the awful aggression it bought out of him. His summer had been completely clean, and during the time Draco dreamt of coming back to uni and feeling the magic take over his body. The substance made him feel superhuman, as though the world was at his fingertips, but it also made him power-hungry, constantly craving more. He didn't want to give in to the sensation just yet.

Draco took out the plastic bag filled with the white powder from his robe and placed it into Crabbe's outstretched hand. Crabbe grabbed a book from the shelf, racked up a line, rolled up the note, then took a long sniff. The tiny particles that escaped clung to his nostril hairs, and his pupils dilated in anticipation. Draco watched in envy.

"I love dark magic," Crabbe said with a cackle, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. So do I, thought Draco, but he wanted to keep the conversation at a minimum so merely nodded in agreement. He had things to do, and ways to distract himself, and once Crabbe got going he didn't stop until the sun rose.

"Want to join me with the next line?" Draco shook his head, returning to his phone screen in an attempt to make his lack of interest clear. It had been a whole summer without seeing his friend, but he wanted to avoid questions, small talk, and anything involving what he had been up to.

"Well I'm going to see Blaise, are you going to come?" Draco shook his head without even making eye contact, fully aware of how rude he was coming across. At this point, he didn't care.

"How much do I owe you then?" Crabbe sighed, giving up, and handed him a small wad of cash. Crabbe was trustworthy, so Draco slid the notes into his robes without counting and got up to leave. 2nd-year accommodation was further out than the first year one, in a building adjacent to the main castle, hence the walk ahead was longer. Crabbe was wired, chatting nonsense as they walked, telling crazy stories about his summer adventures; exactly what Draco wanted to avoid. The absolute nonsense that spewed out of Crabbe's mouth was comical, all in a desperate attempt to try to impress him.

When Crabbe parted ways Draco considered going to his room, ignoring the message on his phone to come over. Ainsley was trouble, demanded far too much attention from him, and claimed him as hers, something Draco wanted to stay far away from. He had made his stance in regards to dating very straightforward; he didn't date. The more interest she showed, the less he cared, and the more she moaned when she saw him with others. Furthermore, a summer of not speaking had made her bitter, and tonight was not a night he wanted to listen to the complaints and the whining.

'I think we need to talk. I know you're back. you can't avoid me Draco!' He had received the messages almost as soon as he stepped onto Hogwarts grounds, making Draco think she had a tracker on him, and just reading them made his eyes roll. But his boredom outspoke his reasonable logic, and he found himself knocking on her door regardless.

She answered the door in her pyjamas, clearly not expecting him to come over, as her outfits were usually far more skimpy. Her eyes were half-closed, her brows tense in the annoyance of being woken, yet her expression was quickly replaced to one of shock.

"Draco?"

"Hello Ainsley, hope you had a good summer," he responded whilst stepping past her, already loosening his tie and removing his shoes. It had been a long summer of loneliness, frustration, and tension, and knowing what was to come made him crave a release. It could have been any girl stood before him and his body would have reacted the same way.

"What the fuck do you mean 'hope you had a good summer', are you taking the absolute piss? Where have you been? I've tried reaching out to you a million times but you were dead to the world, do you know how worried I was? And I hate it when you call me by my last name, why can't you just call me Tess like every other normal person?" the whining had begun, and Draco couldn't stand the whining. Her crude words weren't exactly lady-like, and she flapped her hands about as she yelled at him. To care about someone was an embarrassment in itself, but to show you care was a whole other story. Draco looked at her, her eyes brimming with tears out of frustration, her nails clutching into the palms of her hands with anger, and couldn't help but think she looked pathetic. He pitied her.

He perched on the end of her bed and sighed, running a hand through his hair. This was a mistake, he should have just waited until meeting the next round of pretty freshers to take his pick. He could envision them staring at him with eager curious eyes, begging for the slightest bit of attention, even if it was a brief second of eye contact.

"Tess, come here," he spoke softly knowing it would calm her down, and she loved it when he said her name. Her big blue eyes stared at him as she took a shaky step forward, and he could practically see the battle going on inside her head; whether to stay angry and risk him leaving or to give in and feel his body on hers. Its what she had dreamt of all summer.

"Did you have a good day?" he asked, one by one unbuttoning his shirt buttons, and her gaze flickered to watch his fingers.

"Yes, I suppose. I helped some freshers move in. I was waiting for you to reply though," she had picked option two, a very good choice on her behalf, and she knelt on the floor between Draco's knees. Her fingers lifted to help him remove the last of the buttons, and she moved to the trouser buckle. Tess Ainsley wasted no time, which was a key factor in why he had seen her so much at the end of his first year. Whilst some assumed he had developed an interest, especially due to her 'beautiful looks' and wealthy family tree, Draco had developed no such thing. She was nothing more than average, but she knew not to push him.

He moved his hands into her hair and pulled her forward, so his lips rested by her ear.

"Tess, you know how I like it," he whispered, and just like that she was undone. Mesmerised by his voice, his touch, she inhaled every part of him she could.

Thirty minutes later her body was slumped over him, an arm possessively wrapped over his naked torso, and a thin layer of sweat covered them both. Draco didn't stay for spooning, or cuddles, or anything of that nature. He wriggled out from under her grip and grabbed his undergarments that lay by the bed.

"Going so soon?" her voice sounded disappointed, but she knew full well he was going to leave once he finished. He never stayed around long. He hummed in confirmation, hastily doing up a few buttons, and jumping into his trousers.

"Are you going to talk to me tomorrow?" she asked, and he had to stop himself from groaning.

"Don't kill it, Tess," he muttered, making an effort to say her name so she wouldn't say anything else on the matter. It seemed to work as she pursed her lips and kept them shut, instead watching him get ready to leave.

"Draco...Did you sleep with anyone else this summer?"

"Yes a few," he didn't want her assuming he hadn't for her sake, plus he couldn't explain the reasoning as to why he hadn't, so he lied.

"Were they as good as me?"

"Better," he said smirking, giving her a wink to let her know he was teasing, then made his exit. He heard the pillow hit the door as he closed it behind him, and could picture her saying the word prick into her pillow. His dorm wasn't far, and he slept like a baby.

The next morning, Draco knew that if he stuck around and appeared available, he would be roped into accompanying the new set of freshers into their dormitories. He did not have the time or the patience to make simple chit-chat with children, yapping away at how nervous they were to move away from home. They ought to grow up. He thought back to last year, his chaffier dropping him off, holding only a small bag with clean sheets and a wad of folded cash in his wallet. As those around him bid farewell to their families, he walked up alone, head held high and a blank expression on his face. His family name had already earned their prestige yet cold reputation, and he did well to follow in their footsteps.

To keep himself busy he decided to pay a visit to his favourite lecturer, Professor Snape, and knocked outside his office. He was one of the few individuals that Draco optionally chose to associate himself with, occasionally meeting him for a pint and a catch-up. His intellect was something Draco found admirable, and his research amongst new chemical elements was both interesting to discuss, but also kept Draco top of the class.

He heard the words 'come in' being called from inside, so let himself in and took a seat opposite the desk.

The professor was an eerie looking man, tall and skinny, with slightly greasy hair that hung like curtains around his face. His eyes and cheekbones were hollow, his voice low and chilling, and his aura dark and uninviting. These were the traits Draco found familiar.

"Malfoy, what can I do for you? How's the summer been?" With the professor being old friends of the family, Draco didn't know if he had heard about his summer plans, but wasn't going to inquire.

"I'm good professor. Just wondering about this terms syllabus, and if there's anything I can do to stay ahead," since his first day at Hogwarts, Draco had shown that he was incredibly talented when it came to Chemistry, following in Snape's footsteps.

"If you've read the textbooks I recommended over summer, you should be in an excellent position this first term."

A piece of paper laying on the desk with a photo clipping caught his eye, and he reached out to bring it closer. From what he gathered, the document encompassed a transcript of a pupil's interview and an end of year academic report. His eyes scanned the page and the results were exceptional, better than he had been, with the name Hermione Granger underlined at the front. The photo was familiar, a young-looking girl smiling at the camera with eyes crinkled in joy and pride. Her features were petite, her eyes looked innocent, and the bridge of her nose wrinkled slightly from the wide smile. Her look could only be described as English-beauty, and Draco wondered what aristocratic background her family were to raise such a high-achieving daughter. Definitely from pure English blood.

With results like this, the late-night library wanders made sense.

"What's this all about?" he enquired, but the answer was pretty clear already.

"That is Miss Hermione Granger, enrolled into a chemistry degree, and seems quite promising."

"Her background?"

"Parents are dentists, her family name means nothing. But her personal statement was written based on chemically engineering life-saving drugs in developing countries, and her knowledge seems to extend far. Professor Dumbledore wants to keep an eye on her and see what awards she can bring to Hogwarts."

Draco nodded in acknowledgement, but half of his interest had disappeared at the mention of dentists.

"So she's just a muggle," it wasn't a question it was a statement, the word even more belittling than the word 'poor'.

"Malfoy, I would take her seriously if I were you, you don't want your light to be overshadowed. Not after all we've worked for," his voice held a tone of seriousness, and his words created a tense atmosphere that hung in the air. Was he being doubted?

"Have a little faith Professor," Draco replied, lifting himself out of the chair, and using the moment as a queue to leave. His feet led him quickly down the corridors, dodging fresh-eyed freshers that cluttered the space, and he found himself sat on a bench within the gardens. The aroma of freshly cut grass and crisp air lingered within the space, and saturated colours of pink and green came from beds of roses and neatly trimmed bushes.

Draco withdrew a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, slid one out, and placed it between his lips. His hand fumbled for a lighter, and he lit the tip, letting the clouded toxic air engulf him. A feeling of numbness and clarity rippled through his body for a split second, before all that was left was the foul but comforting taste of tobacco against his tongue. He had come outside to clear his mind, yet he couldn't help but get agitated with Professor Snape's comment. Why would a first-year be a threat to him? He couldn't imagine the wide-eyed, innocent, dentist's daughter being interested in the opportunities at stake anyway. Either way, he would drain the life and soul out of her, leaving her crumpled, deflated and a shell of a human if that's what it came to.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, followed, or added the story to their favourites. Suggestions, criticisms, or encouragement is always welcome and appreciated, so please don't hesitate.

Chapter 4:

Hermione sat in Harry's room giggling whilst Harry and Ron discussed tactics, launching themselves around the room, their Lacrosse sticks between their legs as though they were riding a wizard's broom. Try-outs were in less than an hour, and anticipation had built up knowing the team accepted only a fraction of applicants. Harry seemed far more comfortable with the stick, his grip firm and his movements more purposeful, whilst Hermione assumed Ron was merely keen for the fame. Either way, she wanted them both to succeed.

"We should do shots before to gain a bit of courage, loosen us up a bit," Ron said, his eyes darting to the whiskey bottle Harry kept on his shelf. Quite a lot of the liquid had already been drunk this week.

"Absolutely not Ron, we need to be alert and in top form. See the ball, feel the ball, become the ball," at that statement Hermione began laughing again, enjoying the silly side the two boys bought out in her. She made a ring with her arms in the air and told the boys to score.

"It's a net, not a hoop," Ron said, walking over and pulling apart her arms, then tapping her on the head. He seemed to find any excuse to touch her.

"Right we need to get on the pitch and warm up."

They walked around the campus as a 3, and any apprehension on being the third wheel was long gone. Hermione felt like she belonged, and whilst it had only been a few days, Hogwarts already felt like home.

The fields at Hogwarts seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see, with acres of land surrounding the premises. It really was in the middle of nowhere. Lacrosse pitches were built-in parallel, one for each house, and a large flag displaying the symbol was hung against the net to differentiate. The University had invested so much money into the sport that a superior pitch was placed around the front of the building, used for tournaments between houses or against other schools. Hermione was baffled by how much money the University clearly had, and smugly displayed, whilst her previous school barely had enough hockey sticks for everyone to borrow during sports class.

It was easy to distinguish between students already on the team and those trying-out, as the second years wore the official uniform, the material clinging to their bodies either flattering the female physique or outlining muscular bodies and broad shoulders.

Clusters of eager students stood outside the pitch chatting away, either in support of newfound friends or waiting to partake in the trails.

When her eyes glazed over the Slytherin pitch, she recognised a tall figure with noticeable icy blonde hair, stood next to the same girl that had been so rude to her during move-in day. Their heads were angled towards each other, with a coy smile placed on her face, and she reached out to place her hand on his arm. They suit each other, thought Hermione, both being attractive yet obnoxious. Furthermore, Hermione had inquired about the library hours the morning after her run-in with him and had confirmed what she already knew. The library was always open and a 'lock-up' role did not exist. She had been played a fool.

She didn't realise she was staring until his face turned in her direction, momentarily making eye contact, and she looked away in a hurry. Whilst she was very unimpressed with his nonsense, she wasn't feeling brave enough to confront a second year. Especially one that looked as cold and menacing as him.

"We're getting called to the pitch Hermione, are you staying or leaving?" Ron's voice bought her attention back to him, and she told him that she wanted to stay and watch them play.

"Great, we'll leave our bags with you then," Harry said, dumping the duffel bag on the floor by her feet, then jogging to where they were being summoned. Ron did the same, leaving Hermione standing alone. She hoped they wouldn't be that long, as watching sport wasn't something that she had found interesting before. Before she realised what she was doing, her eyes drifted back to the spot the two Slytherin pupils were standing, yet they had dispersed and the spot was empty. Looking a little longer it became evident that the girl called Tess was leading a warm-up, her perfect blonde curls bouncing as she demonstrated jumping-jacks.

"I didn't think you'd be the type interested in sport," the voice came from behind her left ear and was distinctly recognisable, the same rasp but smooth tone, the same elaborate pronunciation of each syllable and vowel. The unexpected shock of someone creeping up and talking so close made a shiver ripple through her body, yet she stood perfectly still.

"I could say the same for you," he laughed at her comment, a small chuckle that made vibrations hit the sensitive part of her neck. She thought back to the library, the way he overcrowded her space by pinning her against the shelf, and decided that this boy definitely had an issue with personal space. She stepped away from him and turned slightly, so she could see both the pitch and his face. She didn't want Ron and Harry to think she wasn't paying attention, yet she wanted to see him up close in the light.

Annoyingly, he was even better looking than she remembered. His hair was styled slicked back, and under the sun his hair almost glistened silver. Whilst his skin was pale, a light colouring bought life to his face with the faintest of blushes, and not a single blemish was present. His lips were full and plump, but it was his eyes that were ever-present. They gleamed such a light-blue that it was as if someone was holding a torch behind his iris.

"Touché," he replied, a humoured smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I inquired about the library closing hours," Hermione regretted the decision to bring it up as soon as she began, but there was something about the way he was looking at her that made him look less scary. His face almost looked intrigued by her.

"And what reply did you receive?"

"Well, you tell me," she flickered her gaze between looking at him, and watching her boys run around the pitch.

"That the closing hours are a matter to be taken very seriously," he was mocking her, his eyes glimmering with humour and quick wit on his tongue. Maybe if it was someone else she would have laughed or joined in with the teasing, but he received a dramatic eye-roll and pursed lips.

"Do you enjoy mocking first years? Now you're all grown up you get a little power trip by telling freshers what to do, knowing they know no better?" Maybe she was being dramatic, but clearly he wasn't taking her words seriously as the smirk just grew bigger.

"Most freshers like it when I tell them what to do."

"Unbelievable," Hermione muttered, turning her head away to give her full attention to the pitch. At least she tried, but she had suddenly become hyper-aware of this boy beside her. He stayed silent, and after a few moments, she couldn't help but want him to say something else. The witty bickering was less awkward than the silent standing. Or at least he could walk away so that she could breathe normally again.

As Hermione looked around, she noticed that a few pairs of eyes were glancing in her direction, either confused at the pair of them standing together or perhaps catching peeks at the figure next to her. The girl that had previously been stood next to him was making her glimpse more obvious, and Hermione noticed the frown from where she was stood.

"Your girlfriend's staring," she commented, and he scoffed beside her.

"The girl leading the Slytherin warm up. She's looking over," she said when he didn't respond, and he looked in the direction she mentioned whilst letting out a small sigh. From his reaction, it appeared as though her judgement was wrong, and she wondered as to whether he was going to correct her.

"Maybe she's looking over at you and not me?" his comment didn't make sense as the girl was staring at him, but Hermione didn't want to press the topic further. He hadn't seemed to respond very well to her comments, and his face was back to a stern and cold expression.

"Clearly, just like you were locking up the library," she found her comment quick-witted, expecting it to earn a smirk like he had given her before, but his face didn't change.

"I'll see you around Miss Granger," his departure was abrupt and slightly unexpected, but this was what she wanted right? To be left alone. She watched him take a few steps then lowered herself to sit cross-legged on the grass, immersing herself in watching the sport. She sat for a few moments before she realised that he knew her name without ever having asked.

In no time at all a loud whistle was blown, signalling the end of trails, and Hermione waited for the two boys to return. She had surprised herself by enjoying watching, making the most of the fresh air, despite the anxious feeling the stranger seemed to cast over her even after he was gone. Was he even a stranger? She had kept close to Harry and Ron since arriving, hence had barely conversed with other students, yet she had talked to him twice now. She could describe what his face looked like up close, his scent, the feeling of his breath on her skin. She could attempt at describing his personality; rude, cold, obnoxious, but intriguing. Yet she did not know his name, or what he was studying, or where he was from.

Hermione spotted Ron first, then Harry, as they bounced their way over in a half excitable, half exhausted manner. Ron's face looked as though a rash had devoured him, with even his ears tinged red, camouflaging into his sweat-soaked hair. His breaths were sporadic and desperate, like a fish struggling to breathe out of water, yet he was still yapping away to Harry as he walked up.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Hermione," Harry said, his voice also giving away how tired he was, yet he looked less crimson coloured than Ron.

"No, no, I loved it," she responded, standing up to give each a hug, despite how sweaty they looked.

They decided to sit and wait until the boys caught their breath before heading back to the Gryffindor common room, and Ron explained each activity as though Hermione hadn't watched the whole thing herself.

"Oh, who was the guy talking to you right at the start?" Ron's tone made it sound as though it was an afterthought that didn't require an answer, yet his face gave away that he was waiting for one.

The question threw her slightly off guard because she didn't know the answer. She herself had no idea who he was.

"Nobody, why?"

"I'm pretty sure he's in my brother's year, a guy with the last name Malfoy. It's what he introduces himself as, and only lets close friends call him by his first name. How strange is that?"

Well, clearly Ron knew about this Malfoy boy far more than she knew, so why was he asking her who he was? It seemed as though he was instead trying to ask her 'what was he doing talking to her?'. Yet, the subject matter had sparked curiosity and she wanted to know more.

"How do you know?"

"I remember Fred mentioning him last year when he had just started his degree here. Said there was a boy in his year whose bloodline was practically related to the royal family, and he was dripping in money, but was the biggest twat he had ever come across in his whole life. I got curious and looked him up on Facebook,".

Hearing that he was known to be foul made her feel a little at ease, as at least it meant that she shouldn't take his attitude personally. Yet, it dimmed out the spark of feeling unique or special, knowing that he terrorized everyone in the same manner. The news of his prestige background didn't surprise her, as she had gathered by his over-the-top accent that he was no 'commoner', nor did hearing that he was rich.

"Had a little did stalk Ron? Do I sense a fangirl? If you seduce him, maybe you'll become a princess," Harry teased, poking at Ron's sides, and if his face wasn't already tinged red from exhaustion Hermione reckoned it would have turned red now.

Ron playfully pushed Harry, mumbling a shut up, and the two began rolling around as if they hadn't just spent the last two hours running around the pitch. Hermione still had questions she wanted to ask, such as what he studied and what his first name was, but she also didn't want to come across as interested. Instead, she smiled, leaned back, and let the sun to continue to warm her face.


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you to all those who have reviewed, the support keeps me typing quick. This chapter has connotations with the Bullingdon club, which is an exclusive all-male dining club for Oxford University undergraduates- was a bit naughty. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter, and story suggestions are welcomed :)

Chapter 5:

Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson were lounging in the living room, all four spewed out on the two sofas passing around a joint, a cloud of smoke lingering in the air despite the open windows. Crabbe and Goyle had significantly inhaled more, their eyes had turned bloodshot, and their eyelids drooping in a half sedated state. Parkinson seemed more awake, her thigh pressed up against his, and she occasionally brushed her thumb down his arm in an awful attempt at being sensual.

It was a Thursday evening, no one had been interested in going to a pub, and the university was focused on being attentive to the new students. Last year his first week had been filled with parties, drinks, and throwing money at clubs in an attempt to make a lasting impression on other students. Yet the second year seemed to feel like a waiting game for the term to start, events exclusively aimed at the new students, the older students looking in from a distance. The freshers were treated as domesticated zoo animals being released into the wild, first having to be introduced to the new environment slowly and in small quantities, building up strength to be set completely free.

Parkinson extended the joint to Draco, but he shook his head and let her pass it to Goyle instead.

"You all smoked out Malfoy?" Goyle laughed, putting it between his lips and taking a long drag. The smoke escaped his lips in large clouds, dancing in the air then disappearing as quickly as it appeared.

Draco felt fine, perhaps slightly numb and zoned-out, yet he preferred to not lose his ability to think coherently. Instead, he was content in their company, listening to the boys chat absolute nonsense, whilst also being submerged in his own thoughts and contemplations. He had messages on his phone from Ainsley, inquiring on whether he was paying a visit tonight, yet he had no energy to even respond, with other thoughts clouding his mind.

Sunday at 8:00 pm, whilst the freshers had their final ball to mark the end of freshers week, Draco had his first social of the year as a member of the Horcrux society. Founded in the 1780s, the elite dining club accepted a hand full of students and alumni, with the purpose of obtaining an immortal title amongst the Hogwarts community. Whilst the older generations had partaken in obscene acts of cruelty and despicable rituals, the society had died down into a formal event of networking, opulent banquets, and ostentatious displays of wealth. Draco's father would be attending tomorrow, which made Draco's stomach clench with anxiety, and it meant the evening would be spent keeping his mouth shut unless Mr Malfoy prompted him to speak. His last name entitled him to a spot in the society, whether he wanted it or not, and Draco wasn't sure he did.

"Draco, what are you thinking about?" Parkinson inquired, her hand moving to squeeze his leg, a sleepy smile on her face.

"I'm happy to be back," he replied, picking up her hand, lightly clasping it, then placing it on her lap instead of his. He was fond of her, had even slept with her last year, yet had backed away at her first mention of a date. Friends, but nothing more.

"So am I, you have no idea. You basically disappeared overnight," Draco had received the message that yes, he hadn't communicated with anyone during the summer holidays. Crabbe and Goyle had even made comments, poking at his business whilst he shrugged it off with an 'I was busy'. Whenever the topic of his summer was bought up, Draco just wanted to forget the whole holiday took place.

"I had a lot on my plate," he huffed, hoping that would be the end of it, and she nodded in acknowledgement. She understood from the expression on his face not to push him further.

"Ainsley even messaged me over summer asking about you," Goyle interjected, and Draco was surprised he was coherent enough to follow the conversation. The mention of Ainsley made Parkinsons' nose crinkle with disgust as if a foul smell had entered the room, even though the girls were more than friendly face-to-face. Jealously was an ugly trait to have.

"She's stuck to me like a leech," Draco replied, signalling for the joint to be passed over. The room looked cloudy, a sock placed over the fire alarm to block the smoke, yet the smell of gone-off herbs clung to the air, and would most likely stay until morning. He took a final puff then stood up, announcing his departure.

"Pleasure, Malfoy," Goyle said, whilst Crabbe stayed silent apart from soft snores escaping his nose.

The next morning, he awoke late, one of the unfortunate side effects to the smoking last night, and his head felt murky and unclear. It was as if a dark cloud had wafted through his ear and had nested itself between his skull and brain during his slumber. Yet he had slept like a baby, the marijuana having knocked him out the minute his head fell against his pillow and blocked any unwanted dreams that had become a nightly occurrence.

He needed a coffee and a cigarette.

With a coffee in his hand, he perched on the usual bench in the gardens. The coffee burnt his mouth and tongue, but he kept taking small sips in a drowsy manner, keeping the rim of the paper cup by his lips. A week of smoking again meant he woke up longing for the bitter taste of the tobacco to fill his lungs, so he wasted no time in wedging a cigarette between his lips and lighting the tip. Draco admired the juxtaposition of the beautifully sculpted garden, with its fresh air and sweet aroma, polluted by the toxic clouds of smoke he exhaled. He leaned into a particularly close rose, exhaling directly upon the petals that had not yet fully blossomed, and hoped that they would crisp up and turn to black ash in front of him. They remained the same.

He let out a quiet groan and leaned back into the bench, only to notice that a girl was stood at the entry of the garden, staring directly at him whilst leaning against the archway's frame. Hermione Granger. Realising that she had been spotted, her eyes grew large and panicky, frozen to the spot like a deer in headlights. She stood still, clearly apprehensive on whether to continue her exploration of the garden, or whether to cower away and wait until another time to return. He kept his expression blank, neither inviting her to join him or warning her to stay away and instead continued to take a drag whilst maintaining eye-contact. She would walk away of course, but he didn't know whether he hoped she wouldn't. He found her almost amusing.

Yet, she surprised him, choosing to walk over in purposeful strides, almost like a stomp, and she sat on the very end of the same bench. What was she trying to do, prove a point? That she wasn't intimidated by him? That could easily be changed.

"Good morning, Malfoy," so she had researched his name, clearly wanting to make it obvious, perhaps trying to establish that he didn't have the upper hand. Draco cocked up an eyebrow, his eyes fixating on her face, trying to read into her body language and mannerisms. He was making her nervous, he could tell by how her fingers fiddled and tugged at the end of her robe, despite her attempt at keeping strong eye contact.

"So you've looked me up I gather?" It was a question, yet he said it as a statement that didn't require an answer, purposeful arrogance dripping from his tone. He was going to wind her up, get her panties in a twist.

"Well, you're the one that did it first," what a childish response, he thought to himself, and could see the red tinge appear on her cheeks. In the light, her skin looked as gentle as a roses' petal, and he pictured himself leaning close and blowing the smoke from his mouth against her.

"Don't flatter yourself," he responded, as though the idea of him purposefully spending even a second of his day to research someone as insignificant as her was preposterous.

"I've never told you my name."

"Which perhaps explains why I do not know your name," he pulled a confused expression, suggesting he had no idea what she was on about, only of course he did. His use of her last name at lacrosse had been purposeful, a way to toy with her. She didn't buy it.

"I'm not an idiot Malfoy, but fine. Claim what you want."

His face bunched into an ugly snare, and he turned it away to continue his coffee which was turning cold. He was done with her, she could leave now.

"I've also heard you're an unpleasant person in general, so don't worry, I won't take it personally," he preferred her taking it personally, he wanted to get under her skin, make her squirm with discomfort. He had decided he disliked her, she had a light behind her eyes he wanted to turn off, and her quick tongue needed to be silenced. His opinion was a compliment in a way, because most individuals weren't even worth judgement.

"Well, that's not a very nice thing to say."

"If the shoe fits."

"So why are you here talking to me?"

"I came out here to explore the gardens, which has nothing to do with you. This was clearly just bad timing. You tell me not to flatter myself, but here you are assuming my actions revolve around you, which I find insulting. Why would I want to associate myself with someone as obnoxious and arrogant as you?"

"Yet, you haven't looked around once," The comment caught her off guard, and her quick tongue was perhaps not so quick. Since finding the entrance to the garden and realising he was sat there, she had done nothing but stare at him, yapping away and ruining his morning. He was unpleasant, he was aware of that, but had she stopped to realise that so was she? Her gentle appearance masked the attitude and temper brimming beneath the surface, and she was throwing a temper tantrum over nothing, like a little child.

"I- I guess I haven't," she stuttered quietly, her gaze no longer seeking out his.

"What else do you know?" he wondered if she had googled his family name, seen the articles written about his farther, the scandalous headlines coming up as a long list on a computer screen. She didn't seem the type to admire his heritage, gush over the prestige background, inquire on his Eton days where the uniform looked even more ridiculous than this one.

"You came first last year in Chemistry," she sounded hesitant as she said it, not wanting to sound as if she had done background checks, but still curious.

"Yes, I did."

"I'm here for a chemistry degree too," of course he already knew this. If she suddenly expected him to be cheery and enquire whether she was excited to do the same course he had, then she was wrong. He was not going to give her his notes. He was not going to give her helpful tips. He was certainly not going to reassure her that it was a breeze.

"Thrilling," his voice sounded anything but thrilled, but it was a response nevertheless. In fact, this was a whole-blown conversation, with a girl he did not plan to sleep with, nor did he have anything to gain from.

She took his flat and uninterested tone as a sign to leave and stood up to brush off the dirt that had transferred onto her robe. Before she walked off she gave him a final look, waiting for him to fill the silence with a bye or farewell, but he merely bought the coffee cup back to his lips to try capture the last drops. Draco didn't register if she said bye as she left, he was already in his own head.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Hermione apprehensively studied her face in the mirror. The usual wild curls that fell upon her back had been tamed with straighteners, adding length she didn't realise she had. Her cheeks were tinted with a golden glow from a bronzer that had, till now, remained barely touched. With a shaky and unsteady hand, she drew thin wings above her lash line and applied some mascara to create the illusion of length. It wasn't much, and it certainly wasn't applied perfectly, yet she felt as though her face looked slightly prettier. Maybe even slightly sexier?

Whilst she had shamelessly avoided the other fresher nightlife events, the formal in the grand hall was a must, and marked the begging of becoming an official student here at Hogwarts. Her mother had taken her dress shopping weeks before arriving, roaming the high store fashion boutiques in her area. It was a laborious task, stripping, putting on a dress, showing her mother, analysing, then starting the whole process again. And again. And again.

She had decided on a pale yet glossy yellow colour that bought out the tan hues beneath her skin. The material wasn't anything fancy, yet looked and behaved like silk, falling a few centimetres above the knees, and glistened when it caught the light. The shop assistant had explained the neckline was called a 'cowlick', bunching in a curved semi-circle, concealing any cleavage without seeming conservative. Hermione had loved it when she bought it, blushing as her mother gushed over how beautiful she thought her daughter looked, yet now she wished she had picked something that showed a little less skin. Was it too late to change?

A loud knock snapped her out of the trance, and she heard Ron and Harry's voice from outside her door.

"Shock horror little miss 'I'm not coming out is finally com- oh," Ron had begun yapping whilst she opened the door, yet his words caught in his throat as his eyes scanned over her. He hardly made it subtle, his whole head tilting as he judged even the shoes on her feet, then back up to the top of her head. The gesture made her feel nervous, like a knot twisting in her stomach, yet was flattering all the same.

Harry let out a friendly wolf whistle, commenting on how well she scrubbed up.

"Well, you both look handsome yourselves," she remarked. It was a universal fact that men looked better in suits, and they certainly provided evidence towards the statement. Harry's usual stubble was clean-shaven, adding a youthful yet smarter appearance, whilst Ron's usual messy hair had been brushed from his face. It was his expression that made him good-looking, his warm and friendly smile, the green-lit eyes. Hermione felt her face blush as he linked his arm within hers, and wondered whether it was purely platonic, or whether the flirty gestures over the past week had planted the seeds of romance that would blossom over the coming years. Perhaps the last week was a build-up to this very night, and as he walked her home he'd plant a delicate kiss against her lips as an unspoken promise that this would lead to something more.

Her thoughts were running off on a tangent, and she realised she was getting too far ahead of herself. She merely had a crush, probably because she found his flirting flattering. Moreover, her friendship with Harry and Ron had grown so quickly, and she loved them both so much, that she didn't want to ruin anything by actions turning sour or awkward. She would rather have them both as friends...maybe.

Yet, the feelings in her stomach were the same ones she had back with Victor Krum, a Bulgarian exchange student that had stayed in her school for a month. The girls had swooned, but for some odd reason, he had chosen her to pursue, something that didn't happen often.

Whilst walking to the dining hall Hermione eyed the other students also making their way. The corridor had been transformed into a stream of colours, expensive fabrics swishing as students headed in the same direction, the noise of heels clip-clopping on the stone floor. The different aromas of perfume and cologne had mingled together, yet the smell of alcohol was also evident, with the majority holding a bottle of something that probably cost a fortune for every sip. The ambience was excitable and energetic and with every step, the anticipation for the dining hall decorations grew.

With everyone heading in a single unified direction, their eyes shifted to the boy walking the complete opposite way, moving for him to have a clear path much like cars moved for ambulances. Draco Malfoy was walking towards her, a focused expression resting on his face, his eyes looking straight past her as though he didn't even register her presence. His suit was a classic three-piece, not a single wrinkle would have been spotted with a magnifying glass, and the colour was such a deep black that there was no way it would have been worn more than once.

His steps were quick and straight, not needing to dodge a single person as he seemed to have the right-of-way, hence when Hermione didn't dodge fast enough his arm collided with hers. The impact was weak, yet it snapped him out of his daze and he hesitated a second to see who he had touched. His face was already in a grimace when he looked at her, but it became clear he hadn't noticed her till now. His features softened, realising it was a familiar face, and then he continued walking not saying a word.

"Bit rude not to apologise for walking into you, don't you think?" Ron remarked, and it was only then she realised that she was still linked arm in arm.

"I guess so," she responded whilst looking back to see if she could catch another sight of him. Hermione had been sure that the Freshers welcome formal was held only for first-year students, so why was he here in a suit? And why was he walking in the opposite direction?

"Look at that, its beautiful," Harry said with awe evident in his voice, and Hermione turned back to see the entrance to the dining room in front of them, both doors held open wide to reveal the view. It was breathtaking.

The dining room glowed goldenly, with hundreds of small candles hung from the ceiling at different lengths, giving the illusion that they were floating. A bar had been set up in the far corner, with a long line of students already waiting to purchase drinks, while some were stumbling and misplacing steps already. Hermione entered the dining room still linked arm in arm with Ron, and she couldn't help but feel like they were on a date, her prince charming taking her to the ball.

They spotted a small group of people they knew, including Luna and Neville, and made their way over. Hermione beamed with every step, feeling giddy and filled with warmth. Whilst it had only been a week, she couldn't help but feel like she belonged, having met such a lovely group of friends, and Ron on her arm.

Yet, as they got closer Hermione noticed an unfamiliar face, her gaze directly focused on her arm within Ron's, and a frown firmly present on her face.

"Ron darling hello," her voice was almost a squeal, and she launched herself onto him the minute she was close enough, her arms wrapping around his neck. The action caused Ron to let go of Hermione and awkwardly embrace her back, and his cheeks once again flushed a bright shade of red. He looked embarrassed, uncomfortable, and as though he wanted the ground to split in two and swallow him whole. What was going on?

Hermione shifted away, trying to catch Harry's gaze, but even his eyes were darting around uncomfortably, and the group's chatter died down.

The happy bubble she had felt as she walked up suddenly popped and a dull sinking feeling nestled its way down her throat and settled in her stomach. There was something she was missing.

"Hermione you look lovely. Hello Harry, Ron" Luna's soft and dreamy voice seemed to ease the tension and prompted the group to return to normal. There were a lot of hugs, a lot of compliments, and after a few minutes, she felt Ron lightly tap her on the shoulder to slot back into the circle. His face looked tense, his body stiff, and he avoided all eye contact with her.

"Will you come with me to get a drink, Ron" it was her voice again, a high pitched shrilling noise, and she was dragging him by the hand before he had a chance at answering. He probably wouldn't have objected anyway.

Hermione decided that her face was annoying, with overly pink cheeks, and a rather round face. There was something about her deminer, she seemed possessive, wary of Hermione, unwelcoming. The feelings were all returned.

"That's Lavender Brown. The one we joke about," Harry's voice came from behind her, and Hermione realised she had been staring at where they both stood in the queue. The pieces clicked in Hermione's head, and suddenly she could put a face to a name. The boys discussed her after nights out, joking about how keen she seemed, throwing herself at boys for attention. They hadn't expanded on how interested she seemed in Ron though, or the fact that he was paying her plenty attention right now.

Hermione felt mortified. Harry had seen how Hermione blushed whilst talking to Ron and surely would have noticed the signs of a crush developing. He had watched Ron shamelessly flirt with her, tease and play with her. Had him and Lavender been happening all week and no one felt like informing her at all?

"He has a soft spot for you Hermione, don't let his actions now convince you otherwise. He honestly isn't interested in Lavender" Harry said, reading her mind and wanting to reassure her, but his efforts were wasted. The high hopes for the night ahead were already ruined.

"Do you want a shot?" Harry's face looked shocked at the question she asked, and she was a little surprised herself. She wasn't the type to casually sip on a cocktail, let alone do shots.

_"Do you?" _

"Well yes, it's kind of the reason I asked. I'm going to do them with or without you so...are you coming?" that was the confirmation he needed, and he laughed whilst walking up with her.

"Hermione wanting to do shots? I guess tonights a night of firsts," she wanted to explain she had done them before, albeit only a small number of times. Instead of correcting him, she asked for four tequila shots, two each, and laughed at Harry's pupils dilating in shock. She didn't want them to have an 'innocent, pure, clueless' perception of her any longer. University was about rediscovery, growing into your skin, and becoming a woman. If learning how to party was a stepping stone to achieve that, then so be it.

Whilst the bartender poured the drinks she couldn't help but take a sneaky peek at Ron and Lavender. They were stood by the group, only slightly on the outskirts, and their heads were positioned close together. It was the final push she needed.

She tipped both shots down, feeling vomit tickle her throat, then swallowed that down too. Grim, vile, repulsive, any adjective for disgusting could be used at that point. Yet, once the liquid reached her stomach a small fire was ignited, keeping her insides warm and clouding up her thoughts. 15 minutes later Harry asked if she wanted another round, and she eagerly nodded, following him to tip down another two. She swallowed them easier than the last.

The lights began flickering brighter, the music sounding more compelling. She swayed her hips alongside Luna, Harry and a guy she had never met. Or maybe she had met him and he just had a very forgetful face? His arm would occasionally try to snake its way around her hips, pulling her closer to dance, but she would just shimmer closer to Luna. She couldn't stop her eyes seeking out Ron, keeping tracks on his whereabouts, and the alcohol was making her less and less subtle. In fact, she was feeling more and more mad, and whilst nothing was going on between them, he could have told her about Lavender out of respect. They had spent every day together for the last week, he owed her that.

Her gaze diverted back to him, but instead of seeing two flirting individuals, they were joined at the lips, her hands dug into his hair, and his holding her waist. If Hermione was any closer she would probably see their tongues dancing against each other, hear the sloshing of salvia. Her heart jumped to her throat, then dropped down to her stomach, and the dull beating noise in her head suddenly felt as though her ear was by a speaker.

Fuck you, she thought, as anger rippled through her body in waves. Her logical brain told her that the anger was heightened from the alcohol, she wouldn't care as much in the morning, and she should just turn her head as though she never noticed. But her drunken self wanted to walk over and scream at him, maybe pour a drink over the flower girls head, and stomp off in a temper tantrum. In fact, no. Her drunken self wanted to grab the nearest boy and collide their faces together, kiss him until she felt complete.

The boy dancing with her was a potential option, as he seemed like he would kiss anything with a heartbeat. But her eyes started to scan the crowd, looking for a familiar face with blonde hair. Hermione remembered Ron bad-mouthing him at the lacrosse game, yet how his voice was slightly in awe of his wealthy background. How confused he had been catching him talk to her. This would show him.

He had been wearing a suit so surely he was here? All logical thoughts had left her mind, and her eyes began searching more frantically amongst the crowd. Some part of her brain knew it was ridiculous, and she had no idea what she planned on doing once she found him, but the room was spinning and so was her mind.

"You alright?" Harry's arm held her elbow in an attempt to stabilise her, and she hadn't even realised she was rocking. She must have looked awfully odd, standing in the middle of the dance floor, her eyes darting from one face to another.

"Yes, yes I'm fine," her voice sounded normal at least, maybe slightly slurred, but enough to convince someone she was sober.

"You want me to take you home?" Harry was so lovely. So so lovely. Why couldn't she have felt a connection with him?

"Absolutely not, I'm going to take a wander. Get some fresh air," the minute she said it she knew it was a great idea. Last time she saw him, he had been sat outside in the gardens with that disgusting smoking habit, so it was very likely she couldn't find him because he had been there all night. She started walking before Harry could get a word in, and whilst she felt off-balanced, she was moving without falling- a huge accomplishment.

The gardens were full of smokers, the smell of tobacco thick in the air, small grey clouds disappearing into the night sky every few seconds. So much for 'fresh' air. But nope; no sign of Malfoy. She felt like a lost puppy looking for her owner, and she realised that she wouldn't be able to make her way back to Harry now either. It was either find Malfoy or go home.

She took off her heels, placed them by the entrance of the garden, and started walking towards the library. If he wasn't here then she had no other place to look. She thought back to their first encounter, how he pushed her up against the bookcase, how she had felt his breath by her ear. She thought about his angular jawline, his sharp cheekbones, his airbrushed skin. Any drunk thought to keep her mind occupied and give her something to fantasise over.

The stone floor was cold against her feet, and her steps were slightly askew, walking down the corridor in zigzags. For a moment she even doubted whether she was walking with a purpose, or whether her feet were taking her wherever they desired. Yet by some miracle, she reached the doors, pushing them open to reveal the magnificent room, the beauty of the architecture and bookshelves hidden by a sheet of darkness. It was empty, but she wandered down the aisles in the hope of someone, peering around the room to decipher shapes within the darkness. And like some weird mirage, there he sat, his face in his palms, and his fingers pulling at the roots of his hair.

"Draco," she forgot to mask the excitement in her voice, and so his name was spoken in a loud and enthusiastic tone, the noise echoing against the high ceilings and walls.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

A white glow illumined his left trouser pocket, a buzz vibrating against his skin. It was Ainsley of course, inquiring on whether he wanted to stay over tonight. He let out a soft groan into the silence, willing for everyone to just leave him alone.

The creak of a door echoed through the library walls, and he quickly turned his phone off to avoid attracting attention.

He sat with his eyes closed, his fingers kneading his temple, praying that whoever had entered would quickly leave. He could hear stumbling, and the movements were gentle yet clumsy, so he deduced a drunk female had gotten lost on her way back from the dining room.

The subject was approaching him, and he buried his face in his hands in the hopes of disappearing entirely. Perhaps if he couldn't see them, then they wouldn't be able to see him either? He wasn't in the mood for socialising, not that he ever was, yet his current foul mood made his temper even shorter. He wanted total silence, to be able to reach the end of his wine bottle in peace and to be left alone.

Yet, his request was quickly declined, and whoever had entered the library was stood in front of him. His eyes were still shut, his face buried deep into his hands, but he could feel their presence. Please keep moving.

"Draco," the shrill, high pitched squeal wasn't the voice he expected, and the use of his name was equally a surprise coming from her lips. Without thinking, his head snapped up so quickly that he felt a twang in his neck, yet he knew the face he was going to see before he laid eyes on her.

Her face was flushed from the alcohol, her eyelids drooping slightly, her body swaying instead of standing still. She had looked better when he saw her in the hallway, with tamed hair and nicely done makeup. Now, her hair seemed to have risen in volume like dough in an oven, and the dark black pen around her eyes had smudged, no longer enhancing any beauty. Her dress was still sexy at least, having hitched up a little on the left thigh, and he couldn't decide whether the silk of the dress or her delicate skin would feel softer.

"You left the party early," whilst she said the sentence as a statement, he could tell that she was inquiring as to why he left, her curiosity poking around his business. He hadn't been at the party, and instead was engaging in bogus chit-chat and fine dining in some secret room behind what looked like a bookcase. However, it wasn't as if he could explain that to her. Nor was it her business where he had spent his evening.

He realised that for her to make such a remark, she must have been looking, and the image of her eyes darting around trying to locate him amongst the mass of freshes was amusing. Her blatant disgust, resistance, and hostility towards him had magically disappeared, and instead, here she was seeking out his attention. How very trivial.

"I wasn't at the party," his tone was cold, and the annoyance of being disturbed was apparent in his voice. Whilst his reaction indicated he wanted her to leave, half of him hoped that she would linger a little longer, and provide some distraction from the foul mood the night had induced out of him.

"Oh. That explains a lot."

"Were you looking for me, Granger?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Mister Malfoyyy," she over-pronounced each syllable, clearly making fun of his accent, and also mocking what he had said to her in the gardens. It was a poor attempt at being funny, and her exaggerated eye-roll seemed to have rolled through her body, causing her to lose footing and stumble. She let out a giggle and Draco lifted an eyebrow, judgement plastered all over his face, yet his expression went straight over her head. Instead, she decided to lower herself to the ground and sit a metre away. She eyed up the bottle by his feet, then her eyes seemed to make their way up to his legs, past his crotch, then settle back on his face. If she had been someone else he most likely would have asked if she liked what she saw.

"Alcohol is very unattractive on you."

"Being a dick is very unattractive on you," her quick wit was still in place, the remark fired back with a sharp tongue, which Draco was pleased with.

"Touche."

"So you weren't at the party. Did you decide to wear a suit, grab a bottle of wine, and drink by yourself?"

"Excellent detective skills Granger, a gold star for you," he didn't quite know why he was entertaining this interaction, but it felt better than sulking on his own. Plus he liked the back and forth, pleasantly surprised that her drunken state hadn't reached the point of spewing nonsense.

"Oh come on Malfoy, I've heard about the family tree, think you can afford to get me a trophy at least. I've looked you up, remember?" the alcohol seemed to give her more courage to express her sassy attitude, and she poked fun at him with a grin on her face, clearly finding herself hilarious.

"I guess your family needs all the help it can get, muggle. I've looked you up, remember?" he didn't intend the phrase to come out so maliciously, and instead was seeing where the line of banter had been benchmarked. Watching her face turn sour indicated that he had not only crossed the line but sprinted past. The grin was quickly swiped off her lips and her eyes narrowed into cat-like slits.

"I've had an awful night, absolutely dreadful, and I came looking for someone even more rotten to get under my skin and distract myself. Lucky for me I found you," she remarked bitterly, moving her hands to support herself while she got back up onto her feet. She was huffing and puffing, making a rachet as she tried to regain some balance. If he kept his mouth shut she would be storming out the library as quickly as she came storming in.

"Granger, stay for a second. I'd quite like a rotten distraction from my shitty night too," he didn't know what came over him, yet there was something about her attitude that kept him distracted.

"No, I'd rather not, you're rude."

"Well isn't that what you're looking for anyway?"

"You're mood swings are bipolar."

"I have been told."

"I find you insufferable."

The words were rich and overdramatic, especially as she had admitted to spending a proportion of her night keeping tabs on his whereabouts. Draco just laughed and pointed to the spot next to him, motioning her to take a seat beside him. Her eyes flickered between his face and where he pointed, her drunken state working hard to think up a logical decision. He knew she'd choose to stay, they always did.

'Stand up.'

'What?' Her request surprised him, not choosing to listen to him, yet not leaving either. She clearly had a power complex, the idea of being told what to do insulting to the pedestal she had placed herself on. He wondered what her next request was going to be, maybe to walk her to her room? It probably would be the 'right' thing to do, gathering the state she was in, but Draco hardly earned his reputation through performing righteous acts.

The word no was already on his tongue, but he decided to amuse the situation a little longer. Furthermore, he didn't like how her petite frame towered over him whilst he was sat down, having to lift his neck to meet her gaze. He took a final swig at the bottle of wine, placed it to the side, and straightened himself up. His joints felt stiff from sitting on the ground, and a small rush jolted through his body as the blood rushed to his head. He took a few steps forward, closing the distance so their bodies were inches apart, and tilted his head back down to look at her.

The roles were reversed, him looking down whist she now had to crane her neck to keep the eye contact. Whilst it was dark, the light behind her eyes still sparkled, and the freckles peeked from under her makeup like a constellation of stars.

'Whatever you say, Granger, what now?' His face was close enough that she must have felt his breath on her face as he spoke, and he wrapped a curl of her hair around his finger, causing a small shiver to ripple through her body. He would play with her a bit, just until she wanted it to happen, and then he would go back to being his insufferable self and watch her stomp off back to Gryffindor. He'd wind her up just enough that she'd lay in bed thinking about how infuriating he was, but her subconscious would still seek him out in the hallways.

'I hadn't thought that far ahead' her eyes moved to where he was playing with her curl, and he tucked it behind her ear.

'I followed your command, so it's only fair you follow mine. Does that sound fair to you?' Draco knew that when he lowered his voice into a deep whisper, girls become weak at the knees, and her gazing eyes instigated that she was no different. She hesitated, bit her lip, then gently nodded.

"Kiss me," the expressions on her face transformed as quickly as a stop motion picture. First came a look of shock, then confusion, then disgusted, but the immediate refusal he expected never came. Her eyes even flickered to his lips, appearing as though she was contemplating the idea.

'You're absolutely outrageous,' she said after a few seconds, yet the silence had created a weird kind of tension that felt heavy in the air, and her voice didn't sound as bitter as before.

"You came all the way to find me, Granger. I'll distract you I promise," he placed two fingers just below her chin, tipping her head towards him. She elevated herself onto her tiptoes and their lips were centimetres apart. It was at this point where he wanted to lean away, laugh in her face as he left her standing confused and rejected. Yes, her lips looked inviting, parted softly and plumped in anticipation.

Her eyes weren't gazing into his anymore and instead were focused on his mouth. His tongue darted out, and he licked his lower lip purposely, knowing her intoxicated mind had become fixated on them. Just as he took a step back to leave her hanging, he felt her hands on his shoulders yanking him closer. When a girl leans up to kiss you, the impulsive reaction is to lean in and kiss them back. Or so it seemed right now anyway.

Her lips knocked into him with force, yet they were also tightly closed that the kiss was more like a prolonged and forceful peck. He tried to move his lips to kiss her properly, yet her lips didn't budge. He felt stupid, his neck bent down to reach her, yet just stood there not moving. After 5 long seconds, she pulled away, her eyes wide in shock as though she couldn't believe what she had done. What even had she done?

Draco couldn't help the laugh that erupted from his lips, the noise loud and humiliating, echoing around the library.

"W-what?" she stammered, stepping away and crossing her arms against her chest.

"What the fuck was that Granger?" he was laughing as he said it, his head tipping back, which only provoked her more. Her little hands had balled into fists, and he was waiting for the next temper tantrum.

"What? What's so funny? I wanted to prove I could keep up," bless her, Draco thought, her drunk state had no idea how bad that was.

"In what universe was that a kiss?"

"I'm not just gonna shove my tongue in your throat, am I!"

"Well, you can keep your tongue in your mouth after that. I don't want it in mine," he tried not to sound horrible, as even he knew that making fun out of a girls inexperience was crossing a line, but he couldn't help but find the situation comical.

"Oh fuck off," she flushed red and clamped her mouth, biting on her tongue to stop herself from saying anything else, and started walking out the library. She was practically stomping, and Draco watched as she reached the library doors with a smirk against his lips. She used her body force to pry the doors open and make a hasty escape, casting an angry look back before disappearing. He waited a few moments, the foul mood completely lifted, and then followed with quick steps to catch her up. She was right; his mood swings were bipolar.


	8. Chapter 8

Just wanted to say a big thank you to everyone who has left a review, really appreciate it! Hope you enjoy

Chapter 8

It wasn't hard to catch up with her, and when she realised he was following she angrily scowled for him to leave her alone.

"Just making sure the drunk fresher gets back safe."

"I did what you said, can you do what I say and fuck off," the words sounded crude coming from her lips, and her face confirmed the rage aimed towards him. Nothing he hadn't seen before.

Other drunk freshers were also making their way down the corridors back to their rooms, creating a juxtaposition from the silent and peaceful atmosphere of the empty library. He wondered if anyone was going to come up and ask Granger if he was bothering her, yet everyone seemed too wrapped up in themselves, paying no attention to the seething looks being darted from her to him.

She wouldn't talk to him for the rest of the way, but her steps did become more stable and less zig-zag like; the walk sobering her up with each step. When they reached the Gryffindor common room he considered heading down to the kitchens to grab her some toast, yet quickly decided against it. She'd wake up feeling like death, but she'd be fine.

The Gryffindor common room was the same as it had been last year, and Draco scrunched his nose at the worn our deco. The room reminded him of an old person's home, the dark red colours making space look small, and the smell of dust that lingered in the air reminding him of his grandmother. He had been here a handful of times, despite looking down on those that chose the accommodation. Some of the girls were attractive, and had been fun through the night, but not worth seeing more than once.

A couple of drunk students were sprawled out on the sofa, cans of lager in their hands, chatting with loud and boisterous voices about how shit the ball was. They whistled as Granger stomped past, earning a seething look from her, and a similar look from Draco. He wondered whether they would get a 'fuck off' from her too, yet she seemed far more concerned with getting back to her room and shaking him off.

Draco, on the other hand, wanted to wrap his hand around one of their throats and squeeze until they were choking on their apology. Pigs.

After a few corridors, she stopped by her door, turned around, and narrowed her eyes.

"You can leave now."

"I will do in a second."

"You can enjoy your second by yourself. I'm going inside," her voice sounded bossy and more controlled, the drunken slur having lifted from her tone. He hadn't followed her all this way for her to slam the door in his face. He quickly jolted his hand out onto her arm before she turned and went inside.

"What are you-?" before she could finish her statement his mouth was on hers, his tongue making sure to keep her lips open before she clamped them shut again. Her tongue tasted of tequila and limes with a weird hint of vanilla, and he imagined his taste of the red wine he had been drinking. She didn't wrap her arms around his neck or tangle her fingers in his hair, unlike most girls, but her technique was better this time, humming gently into his mouth when his tongue flicked hers. He placed both of his hands on her waist, feeling the silky texture of her dress, and steading her balance as she gently leaned back against her doorframe.

The key card was already in her hand, so it only took a second for him to slip the door open whilst keeping their embrace locked. The click of the door caused her to jump, stepping back and staring with startled eyes. Draco had done this a million times before, walking a girl back to her room and placing himself on her bed before she even knew what was happening. Usually, they would happily follow, yet he wasn't so sure with Granger. She didn't seem the type to let a boy slip into her bed so easily.

Surprisingly, she stayed quiet as she watched him stride the length of her room; his eyes darting from the periodic table to the textbooks on the desk. It only took him three strides to reach the foot of the bed, and he waited for her to deny him or say he was invading her privacy.

When no such remark was made, he lowered himself down and beckoned her to come over with his finger. Her hesitation was evident, a nervous look being cast at the closed door before looking back at him.

"What am I doing?" she said it to him but was phrasing the question at herself, shaking her head as she took a step towards him.

"Don't overthink it."

"This is a normal thing girls do at uni right? Have strangers in their bed?"

"I'm not a stranger."

"Oh, you know what I mean Draco."

He didn't like how she called him by his name, but now was not the time to correct her. Instead, he waited till she took a few steps forward, then lowered herself next to the spot he was sat. He let his fingers delicately slide along her cheek, then her jaw, and then he pulled her in.

Draco made a mental note of how soft her lips were, and he kissed her with a hunger for all the innocence she came with. The curl of her hair wasn't soft like Ainsley's was, yet it meant his fingers could get a better grip to tilt her head back and move to her neck. A sharp hiss escaped her mouth and her fingers grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer so he wouldn't stop.

Every indent on her skin and dip of a curve felt unfamiliar, and he moved his hands up and down with purpose, making a small mental note on when she gasped and wriggled beneath his touch. Her skin was so soft and so warm that he wanted to press his whole body against it, wrap her round himself till her thin frame was indistinguishable from his. Yet he kept himself slightly elevated, his weight on his knees, his head dipped down to kiss her lips. Her fingers gripped at his shirt, tugging him to lower himself and rub up against her, but her movements were also awkward and inexperienced. She didn't know what to do, and strangely it made her more endearing.

He lay his fingers against her thigh, moving his lips in a trail to her collarbone. She moaned, just as he expected, and when he trailed his fingers up her thigh she let out a humming noise.

When he was happy that she'd let him, he gripped at the fabric of her dress, pulling it over her body and discarding it by the foot of her bed. Her undergarments were plain, childish even, but her breasts were full and her skin milky looking. For a moment he stared, adding another image of a naked body to his collection, and she shifted uncomfortably looking away from his face.

"Malfoy I-" she stopped whatever sentence she was just about to say when she felt his lips on her chest, first a peck just below her bra, then another above her bellybutton, then a final where the material of her pants began.

"Can we just stop for a minute," she said it so quietly and apprehensively that Draco didn't know if he heard right, lifting his head to look at her. She propped herself on her elbows, nervously looking at his face and biting on her lip with stress. Fear was evident on her face, her pupils dilated, a glazed and panicking expression. The moment of realisation of what she was doing, and what she was about to do, had hit, and he could tell that she wasn't 100% sure she wanted it.

"I'm sorry I just don't want to make a stupid drunken mistake. Not that you're a mistake, it's just... Are you leaving?" Draco had already sprung off the bed, picking up the suit blazer he hadn't even realised he'd taken off and was a step away from the floor. He didn't want to stick around for the uncomfortable comments or maybe an accusation statement that he had pushed her too far.

"There's really no need to apologise, Granger. I couldn't care less."

"Well that's good, that you're not pressuring me or anything. You could stay a bit longer if you wanted, I just don't want to go all the way that's all."

What was she trying to imply? That he stayed for a PG kissing session? That they could hug each other, and offer her some male attention that she so obviously craved? No thank you.

"Granger I'm horny. If we're done here I think I'd rather get taken care of by someone else."

She looked taken aback, her fingers clutching harder at the duvet that was covering her semi-naked body. A wave of hurt washed over her face, and he felt exasperated at her sporadic reactions to everything he said or did. She seemed to switch from hating him to wanting him every few seconds, and he just wanted a moments breather for her to be normal. Surely he wouldn't have to sugar coat everything to reach that?

"Right, have a nice night," her voice sounded vulnerable but dismissive, providing him with a clear cue to leave. He shook his head in disbelief as he left, the night has been the strangest he had experienced in a while, and the door swung shut behind him.


	9. Chapter 9

Big thank you to everyone commenting, favouriting or following the story. I always love hearing recommendations, so don't hesitate to message if you have a direction you want the story to go! Planning this to be a longgg fanficition, so bear with me and hope you enjoy the journey.

Chapter 9

Her head pounded as though her heart had somehow slithered up her throat and nested itself in her head, the noise of a heartbeat pulsating by her ear. She felt like death, the taste of something dead fresh on her tongue, and a knot tied tightly in her stomach. And whilst she had been quite heavily intoxicated, unfortunately, it wasn't enough to wipe away the memories of last night. Whilst the sad memory of Ron all over another girl was there, her business with Malfoy was the pressing issue, replaying in her mind like a re-recorded tape. She felt uneasy in herself, having let his fingers wander all over her, something she had hardly any experience with. Looking down at her bare skin, she searched for a visible trail, feeling his imprint so intensely on her body, yet was completely unmarked.

Her yellow dress, crumpled and discarded by the foot of her bed, was the only solid proof that he had been there. She could practically feel his fingers slide up her thigh and lift the garment over her head, carelessly throwing it behind him.

The way she had searched for self-worth and validation from another boy, purely as a reaction of getting rejected, made her feel sick to her stomach. She was better than this.

And yet, at the time, she had wriggled in pleasure, loving the way his touch lit up excitement from within. Emotionally, she was all over the place, but what felt particularly

The sound of knocking vibrated all across her room, travelling from the floor to her bed frame, and she prayed it was meant for another door and not hers. The second round of knocking was far louder, confirming her fears and filling her with dread. Who on earth would want her at this hour?

The idea of Malfoy standing behind the door flashed through her mind, and suddenly the bile in her stomach felt like it was tickling the back of her throat ready to spew out. No no no no, not now.

"Hang on, I just need to get up to open the door," she called out when she heard the knocking start again, with a cracking and weak tone. Problem one was willing her stomach and head to settle whilst getting out of bed. Problem two was managing to cover her body quick enough to open the door. Did she even want to open the door if it was Malfoy?

"Don't worry your doors open," came a voice from outside, a voice that definitely did not belong to Malfoy, but was also not a person she wanted to face right now.

A piercing creek of the door, followed by a pale face and a mob of red hair emerged behind the door frame. He looked like a floating head, dark circles haunted under his eyes, and an unnatural whitewash had settled on his face. A hangover didn't suit him.

"You must have forgotten to lock it on your way back last night," Ron remarked, still peering around the doorframe. No, Malfoy must have left it open whilst leaving, ready to open up another girls legs. Not that Hermione was going to tell Ron that. He was probably doing the exact same anyway.

She gripped the duvet tighter to her frame, not knowing whether to tell Ron to bugger off or play it cool, mortified at how dramatic her reaction was last night. They had only known each other a week, and whilst her crush had escalated in her head, she couldn't demand or expect anything from him. She had been the true fool of the night.

"Good morning," the words sounded a bit forced, but she couldn't continue to silently stare at him.

"It's not really 'good' morning, I feel like shit! Plus, it's not morning anymore, is it?"

The minute his words registered Hermione thrust her arm out to check her phone, panicking she had slept through the entire day. When the numbers flashed eleven am relief washed over her, knowing she'd still make her first lecture at one pm. Still, she had been hoping to grab breakfast and have enough time to look over notes.

"I must have slept through my alarm," she muttered, sinking further into the pillow and wishing the bed would swallow her whole.

"I um. I got you coffee," he stepped away from the doorframe, momentarily disappearing, then his full body emerged as he let himself in. His hand was wrapped around the handle of a mug, and the stunning aroma of coffee consumed her room. The tight grip on her covers loosened, and her fingers reached out for the liquid gold inside the cup, all promises of a hangover cure concealed within.

"You're not supposed to remove mugs from the dining hall," she remarked, taking a tiny sip of the steaming black coffee. He had forgotten to add milk, leaving a strong and bitter taste, yet she was still grateful for the kind gesture.

"Yeah I stole it, don't snitch on me," he gave her and wink then perched on the end of her bed, almost the same position Malfoy had sat.

"I can't make any promises. As long as you're nice to me, I'll keep my lips zipped."

"Oi, cheeky. I'm not having a mug used as blackmail. Speaking of mugs, I feel like a massive mug about yesterday Mione, I am so sorry," she knew he was going to bring it up when he walked in, however, she didn't expect him to spring it on her like that. She also had expected anything but an apology, knowing full well that she had gone a bit crazy. His eyes darted around the room, wanting to avoid looking at her, and she kept her gaze on the coffee.

"Ron, you have nothing to apologise for. I don't know what Harry's mentioned, but I can barely remember the night myself," the lie rolled off her tongue, being far easier to say than explaining it hurt seeing him with another girl.

"No, no, I shouldn't have acted like it was a date then ditched you at the start, I feel awful. I regard you so highly as a friend, that I'm mad at myself for being so rude."

The word 'friend' stuck out like a sore thumb, reminding herself how stupid she was for thinking it might be more.

There was more she wanted to say, such as asking what was so great about Lavender, why had he spent so long making fun of her then was all over her? But she knew to bite her tongue, wanting the night's embarrassment and stories to be dropped.

"Did you just come back here when you left?" he asked, breaking the moment's silence.

The question took her by surprise. No way was she going to mention that she had been with Malfoy, especially as Ron knew exactly who he was. He probably wouldn't have believed her even if she did tell the truth. But she didn't want to tell him that she came straight home, making it look as though she had been too upset by him to stay.

"No, I went to see a friend, then came back," apart from the fact that he wasn't a friend but instead a very obnoxious, stuck up prick, the rest was true. She didn't need to clarify she came back with him, nor that he was the reason she was practically naked under the sheets.

"Oh is that why you left? I noticed you left early," she felt like she had redeemed herself, a small win, plus, she liked the fact he had noticed.

"Yeah, I was a bit drunk so I thought it was best"

"How sensible, I just got smashed and stayed. Who'd you go with?"

"Stop being so nosey. Thank you for the coffee Ron, I'm gonna start getting ready for my lecture now though."

"Oooooo how mysterious, mystery man. Right, I'm off, I'll see you and Harry later," he got up and started leaving, but hesitated just as he reached the door.

"Wanna do coffee at some point? Just us?" He didn't look at her as he said it, and her neck snapped up so quickly she almost spilt some coffee onto her duvet,

"Sounds lovely," she responded, controlling her voice as much as it was physically possible. From the fraction of his face she could see, she noticed his cheeks wrinkle into a smile, then disappear out the door. She buried her head into the pillow and let out an excitable scream.

The rest of the morning was spent thinking and imaging every possible scenario that could take place at coffee. From waking up miserable and filled with regret, her mood had taken a 180-degree turn, the sickness in her stomach overpowered by the buzz of Ron's words in her ear. Was it a date? When would they go? Was he going to initiate a time and place? Was she going to have to do it? The heat of the shower lulled her body into a soothing state, with scenarios of conversation between the two playings in her mind. Every droplet washed away the regret and embarrassment from the night before, and instead, she focused on how exciting the year ahead seemed. One week settled, her first lecture today, a small group of friends, and a potential romance.

She dabbed concealer under her eyes to conceal the sunken bags and lifted her eyelashes with some strokes of mascara. She still had an hour and a half before her first lecturer began: an introduction to Chemistry. Making a good first impression with her lecturer was important, and turning up looking a hungover mess wasn't the best way to start. Already having looked him up online and in the welcome day brochure, she knew the Head of Chemistry was a man named Professor Snape. In his pictures, he looked cold and unapproachable, yet every teacher at her last school had loved her as a student. Once she showed him how ambitious and hard-working she would be, she was sure he'd think the same.

After placing folders, a notebook, her pencil case and textbook into her bag, she set off, grabbing a coffee on her way to pass the time. She was one of the first to arrive, taking a seat at the front of the lecture theatre 15 minutes early.

The room was large, fairly dark, with a stage at the front of the room in front of a wall-sized screen. Apart from the screen, all furnishings appeared old fashioned, with dips in the desk for ink cartridges. The wooden seat stuck into her back, and the desk size barely fit her textbook, let alone her coffee and notebook. Other students filtered in one by one, opting to sit further back in the room. By 12:55 the majority of the room was full, with a quiet buzz of chattering and introductions. The two people either side of her were deep into conversation, so she pulled out her phone to look busy instead of awkward.

A message from Harry had popped up on her home screen.

'Hey Mione, how're you feeling?'

'I'm rough but surviving, see you after my lecture' she typed back and hit send just as the professor walked in.

The room's atmosphere changed as the professor walked in; everyone sat up straighter, became attentive and eager to impress. He carried an eerie domineer, his stone-cold expression intimidating, and it was as though he had already decided his distaste with everyone sat in the room. Black curtains of hair hung either side of his face, and he stopped just in front of Hermione's desk. He cast a single look down at her, his lips tilted into a slight frown, then addressed the room.

"My name is Professor Snape. I will be your lecturer for the year, perhaps for the next 3. All of you will not pass this class. Throughout your secondary year of studies you needed one of two things; brains or hard work. You will need both to pass, and you will need a significant amount of both to pass with merit."

He spoke in a flat monotone, yet each word captivated the room, each second increasing the tense atmosphere.

"Those that have already read and digested the core textbook, please raise your hands."

Hermione's arm shot up, her fingers extended to get the maximum reach. A couple of other hands were raised, yet the majority of the room awkwardly kept their head hung low, ashamed to already be making a bad impression.

"Disappointing. For all those who haven't raised their hands, you have a week to catch up. The lecture next week will have a guest speaker, who will highlight the importance of keeping on top of your work; do not disappoint me again. Moreover, let's begin with an introduction to Chemistry."


	10. Chapter 10

Hello all. Just wanted to start by saying I'm really sorry for the long hiatus, I really struggled with this chapter. A lovely comment that was posted a few days ago really encouraged me to persevere with this story, hence I'm feeling super motivated to write quicker, and to get more chapters out for you guys. Positive comments do mean a lot to me, and I value any suggestions or ideas people leave! Can't wait to get this going and watch how Draco and Hermione's relationship unfold with one another.

**Chapter 10**

He made a point of chewing his gum loudly, his jaw open and his tongue smacking the roof of his mouth. The minty flavour was long gone, and all that was left was the rhythmic and repetitive chewing action. The back of his head rested on the sofa's armrest in Snape's office, whilst his shoes hung off the edge, his position so he relaxed that if he closed his eyes he was sure he could fall asleep. It was a purposeful display of comfort; a statement to say that he belonged in here, that he held enough power to be considered an ally.

"I'm not asking you Malfoy, I'm telling you," Draco rolled his eyes at the professor, the idea of talking to a room full of freshers not being a pleasant one.

"What could I possibly say that would add any value to their time here? I'm sure you've done a tremendous job of evoking the fear of failing, so I'm left struggling to see any purpose."

"Malfoy, stop trying to be a smart arse, you know full well that the head of the year is responsible for doing a speech to the first-year students. Like it or not you will do this, and lift those feet off my sofa. This is not a hotel."

Begrudgingly he complied, lifting each foot as though weights were shackled to his ankle.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Use your initiative and write something down. You're not a baby Malfoy, you don't need to be spoon-fed."

Snape had never been the type to make his life easier, despite having known him since he was a child. He watched the boy grow up, yet lacked the sympathetic or warm attachment one forms with a family friend. Malfoy merely grunted in response, knowing full well he was getting on Snape's' nerves, yet wanted to pout a little longer.

"Granger was at the lecture on Monday. She stayed behind to discuss how she could get a head start on the course," Snape remarked, which surprised Draco as he had been sure the next words out of his mouth were going to be 'leave'.

The mention of her name sent an unwanted chill down his spine, knowing that it was only a matter of time before she was bought up. He had hoped to avoid the subject of her entirely, finding their Sunday exchange uncomfortable to remember. When it came to her, curiosity had gotten the better of him, yet the saying was true. Curiosity killed the cat.

"That's hardly a surprising statement, the girls a complete try-hard. I've never met a bigger nerd in my life."

"Oh, so you've been introduced?"

Draco bit down on his tongue, cursing himself for his careless statement.

"Yes."

"Care to elaborate?"

Well, she stalked me to the library, I followed her back to her room, and then I almost made the mistake of sticking my dick into her cause red wine makes me horny.

"Not really."

"Feel threatened by her?"

Threatened was not the word Malfoy would have chosen. He didn't know what word would best describe his reaction towards her. He wanted to feel indifferent, yet knew he did not. A very small part of him disgusted maybe, although he could not place the reason as to why. Her simple mudblood status was enough to know she did not belong at this university, yet the disgust came from somewhere else.

However, he refused to acknowledge it had anything to do with feeling threatened. There was no chance her intelligence could compare to his; no chance.

"No."

"You should be."

He didn't like the certainty in Snape's voice and immediately wondered whether his statement came from a comment someone else had made. Was Granger being discussed as a possible candidate? Had she been told about the organisation? Did Draco Malfoy have a competition to the one role he had been promised since birth?

The conversation had turned uncomfortable, and he felt as though a carrot was being dangled in front of him, wondering whether he'd bite. He was tempted to react, to ball his fists and slam them against the wall, or to growl and ask what side Snape was on. He felt his hot temper start to bubble beneath the surface and did his best to suppress it by digging his nails hard into the palms of his hand.

"I find it insulting you say that," his voice was a snarl, the anger clear in his tone.

"I find you naive for disregarding the advice I'm giving."

And what advice was that? It sounded more like a threat, a warning to watch his back. Was he meant to keep an eye on her? Accept that a mudblood, coming from a poor background with no insider help actually stood a chance against him? Did Snape have that little faith in him?

He picked himself up off the couch and strode out of the room, a frown embedded into his forehead, and teeth grinding against each other in frustration. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

Despite staring at the ground instead of acknowledging Snape, he felt his eyes follow him as he sulked out the room.

"I'll see you later Malfoy," he said, not that Draco replied.

When he finally cooled down enough to unclench his fists, he noticed little dots of blood dotted on his palm. He hadn't even felt it.

* * *

Despite no part of him wanting to give a speech, he knew consequences would arise if he didn't do as Snape asked. He made a point of arriving 20 minutes late, peering into the window of the lecture theatre before making his presence known. Snape was stood at the front, his monotone voice carrying itself around the room.

The only person he recognised was Granger, catching a side profile of her face as her hand attempted to keep up with whatever the old git was saying. Was she taking notes or writing a full manuscript of the lecture? Furthermore, It was no surprise that she was sat front row, right in the centre, a place most students would avoid. Then again, she was not 'most' students, as Snape liked to remind him.

Her curls overspilt the bun crafted messily on her head, single strands curling against her cheek and falling to her earlobe. The very same hair he had grabbed a handful of a few nights before.

It was hard to imagine himself getting so worked up over her when she looked the least intimidating in the room, her youthful appearance giving her the essence of naivety and innocence.

Once he realised he was staring a few seconds too long, he tried scanning the crowd to stare at someone else's features. A girl on the back row was wearing the Slytherin coloured robe, with hair the colour of white silk, and pouty lips that looked like they could do wonders. It reminded him to text Clearwater once he was done, and see if she was up for him coming over later. He already knew the answer.

Snape's eyes darted to the window, locking eyes with Draco, and narrowing into angry slits. He kept eye-contact to say '_yes I'm late_,' and _'what are you going to do about it?_'. Yet his stare was no match for the Professor.

All eyes darted to him as he opened the door and walked inside. There was a brief murmur, an excitement that someone other than Snape's depressing nature was taking over a session.

"This is Draco Malfoy, our guest speaker for the evening. He managed to score an impressive 97% last year, a score many would only dream of achieving. He's here to offer some advice and first-hand experience," Draco wanted to roll his eyes at the introduction but was very aware of how many pairs of eyes were fixated on him.

He replaced where Snape stood, slightly nervous to address so many people in one go. His reputation meant everything, and he could picture his dad rolling his eyes if he stuttered or said anything one would class as stupid. The phone in the left inner pocket of his robe had a list of everything he thought Snape would want him to mention, yet he knew reading from it would be deemed as totally unprofessional. Instead, he tried to picture everything he had made a note of, and go through it systematically.

_Draco you idiot, start by saying hello._

"Hi." The theatre's walls seemed to echo and amplify sounds, hence didn't have to shout for his voice to reach the back. Granger sat two steps away, her eye rolls not subtle in the slightest. She dropped her pen, folded up her notebook, and crossed her arms as she looked up at him. Someone was acting a bit immature; clearly the schoolgirl crush had faded.

He coughed to clear his throat then continued.

"Last year I was sat where you guys are sat, and I achieved the top results of the year. My achievements were no fluke, but took hard work and determination, with a lot of additional reading. I would advise to always read ahead of the syllabus, to complete work ahead of time, and utilise teachers and their knowledge as best to your ability."

He was struggling to remember the notes he made, or what else Snape would want him to say, and mentally kicked himself for not preparing more. He let his eyes wander around the room, trying to play it off as a purposeful pause, yet was convinced the flush rising up his neck was going to give him away.

The bored, exasperated sigh from Granger, who was obviously just trying to make a fuss, jolted his memory. _You arrogant, jarring life-saver Granger._

"I hope you are all acquainted with the library because by the time examinations come round, you'll wish you could reserve yourself a spot," at the mention of libraries her eyes dilated and her lips pouted. He wondered whether she pictured their first encounter- when he pinned her up against the bookshelf so close that she'd have felt his breath against her lips. Or perhaps she thought about their last, the teasing and embarrassment. The pressing of the lips.

"Of course, the library is open at all hours, don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

He couldn't help the smirk that itched itself on his face at the last sentence and had to stop himself from laughing out loud at Granger's reaction. A mixture between a huff and a snort escaped her lips, far louder than she probably intended. He didn't doubt that she had some smart-arse, sassy remark dying to come out her mouth, but had to restrain herself in front of a room full of people. Instead, she slumped further in her seat, seething away.

After 10 minutes of speaking, he looked at Snape for permission to stand down, who merely gave a disappointed nod in his direction. He had royally fucked that up, and was itching to leave before anyone decided they'd come up and ask for some advice. He waited for Snape to dismiss the room, yet something in him also wanted to stay a little longer to gloat to Granger. He could spare 5 minutes and then make his quick escape.

"Clearly someone was happy to see me again," he said, walking up to her desk as she packed up her books.

"If I had known you'd be the guest speaker, I wouldn't have wasted my time."

"Missing lectures is heavily frowned upon, did you not listen to my speech?"

"Quite frankly, you would of seemed more intelligent if you had just kept your mouth shut."

"Keeping my mouth shut is exactly what I should have been doing with you all along, Granger."

Her mouth gaped at the last statement, realising exactly what he was implying, and her cheeks coloured red almost instantly. He waited for her to fire back, but was interrupted by a light tap on his left shoulder.

He turned around to see the blonde he'd singled out before standing in front, with a few other students dotted around reluctant to approach him. He was glad they seemed hesitant; he didn't want to give off the impression that he was approachable.

"Hi, sorry, I just wanted to say I really enjoyed your speech. Would it be possible to get some contact information, just in case I need some advice or support? " The girl had balls asking, and whilst he would usually lap up attention from a hot Slytherin, he wanted to hear what Grangers sassy response would be.

"Hang on a second I'm busy," he said, turning back around to face Granger, but she was already gone.


	11. Chapter 11

Hello lovely people, thanks for reading this far! Appreciate all the lovely comments so much, what do people think of this chapter? Finally some smut, in a very subtle way!

Chapter 11

"How was the coffee?" Harry casually asked, having focused very hard for a solid five minutes on his economic notes, deciding he now deserved a well-earned break.

"Oh what? Coffee with Ron?" Hermione asked, trying to keep her voice level headed, pretending she hadn't been silently begging Harry to ask since the minute she stepped into his room. She knew he wasn't dumb, and must have figured out the real reason why she was stood outside his room at 6 pm, asking whether he wanted to study together. Yet it had been precisely 34 minutes and he was merely bringing up the subject now, making her question whether Ron had said something already, or whether he just wanted to build up suspense.

"Didn't realise you had coffee dates lined up Mione, who else would I be asking about?" his words were laced with sarcasm, something Hermione didn't appreciate for such an important topic. Despite spending the majority of her time around males, she really didn't understand them very well and wanted someone to explain to her exactly what each word and body movement meant.

"A date? Do you think it was a date?" it certainly hadn't felt like a date, despite looking forward to it all day.

"Um I'm not sure, honestly I have no idea what goes through that boy's head," he said, swivelling back in his chair to return to his computer screen. The topic clearly made him feel uncomfortable, and she understood how he wouldn't want to come in the middle of them both, but she needed to unpick his brain for her sanity.

"Sorry Harry, I've just never done any of this before."

"I know I know, I just don't want to give the wrong advice or get in between you both. I think it's best that you two communicate with each other and not through me. I'm not exactly a guru when it comes to females myself."

It was annoying how logical his statement was, and she knew he was right.

"I don't understand how you've already got so much Chemistry work, do they work you like dogs?"

Hermione had at least a dozen notes spread out around her but had only managed to get through half a page, her mind in a thousand other places.

"I've printed off every essay I could find online submitted by Draco Malfoy, and I'm going to see how he scores such high marks."

"Draco Malfoy? The one that you chatted to at Lacross trials? The one Ron said was a complete bellend?"

Well yes him, the one I also had in my bed, and kissed, the one who completely mortified me and mocked me in front of a room of people. The one who was very good looking but also very very annoying and rude.

"That's the one."

"Why don't you just ask him?"

"Because Harry, as you so adequately put it, he's a complete bellend. I don't want to give him the satisfaction," plus she didn't think he'd be particularly interested in helping anyway.

His 'speech' had been an absolute joke, with his words offering advice, yet his expression threatening anyone who dared ask him for help. His 'words of wisdom' lasted an incredible 10 minutes tops, and had completely ruined the jittery and excited mood her planned coffee with Ron had placed her in. She blamed him entirely for her bad mood as she sulked out the room, meeting Ron outside the cafe.

"Hey Mione, you okay?"

No, she wasn't okay, she was seething, and agitated, and annoyed, and wanted Malfoy's head to naturally combust. But instead, she plastered a smile on her mouth and chatted away as they waited in the coffee queue.

He didn't offer to buy her drink, not that she expected him to, but it would of at least been a hint towards whether it was a date or not. He didn't lean up close or take her hand within his, but he did steal some of her carrot cake, which seemed a little flirty?

"This was nice," she said when they finally got back to her room, him walking her to her door.

Do I invite him in? Does he want to come on? Is he going to kiss me?

He leaned in and pecked her cheek, causing a ripple of butterflies to ascend down her throat and flutter around her stomach.

He said they should do it again soon, then went to say hi to Harry before he left. She had waited a few hours before her feet practically carried her to Harry's door, and found herself knocking asking to study together.

"Fair play," Harry said in response to her Malfoy comment, picking up one his the essays she had printed out.

"The biological mutation of the virus Crucio, what on earth?" Harry read, scanning the rest of the page with a confused expression on his face.

"I know its bizarre. He's focused a lot on the chemical composition of drugs that fight viruses and infections I've never heard of," Hermione responded, frowning at the page in her hand. Something was off about these studies, she just needed to work out what. But that was for another day.

"Can we just watch a film instead? I'm bored."

* * *

Under the duvet was hot and sweaty, and Hermione turned once again in an attempt to get comfortable.

_I can't believe I'm doing this_, she thought to herself as she toyed with the waistband of her shorts. She was on edge, not quite knowing whether she wanted to get herself worked up at 2 am with lectures the next day, yet also knowing the release would send her straight to sleep. _I'm frustrated, it'll be good for me._

She slipped a hand underneath the material whilst shifting into a comfortable position, keeping her legs slightly ajar. Closing her eyes, she tried to think of anything that would be arousing, getting into the mood before she'd touch herself underneath her pants.

She pictured Ron, sitting on the bed beside her, leaning in to press his lips against hers. His fingers would caress the back of her head to pull her closer until they'd move down to her waist, gently brushing against the bare skin between her top and shorts.

The scenario was too vanilla, and she tried shifting her thoughts to something slightly sexier.

Instead, he'd be on top of her, his lips sucking on the curve of her neck with a hand thrust up her skirt. 'Ron, please' she'd moan, as his fingers rubbed from side to side on top of her panties, feeling the wetness soak through.

'Please what?' he'd ask, causing her to squirm at the thought of saying the words out loud.

'Ask for it nicely Hermione, and maybe I'll do it.'

'Please...touch me.'

She pulled back her pants and placed two fingers against the wetness, all whilst imagining it was Ron who was pulling the material back and placing his fingers against her. She started with slow and lazy motions, then increased the speed when she started feeling twitches of arousal.

But something about the fantasy felt off, hindering the imagery of Ron to keep flowing in her mind and act as material to touch herself to. She couldn't imagine Ron saying any of the dirty things she was picturing, let alone kiss her in all the spots that made her body hum in pleasure.

Yet the sexual frustration was in full swing, and she would picture any scenario just to bring the release out the body. Without thinking too much into it, she pictured herself pressed up against a bookshelf, swallowed by the darkness cast over the library. A hand would be over her mouth, muffling the moans escaping her lips in an otherwise silent room. Malfoy would be behind, his lips against her ear to whisper profanities whilst his fingers were pumping her in quick but deep movements. Now and again his two fingers would curl, causing her hips to jerk forward and her thighs to contract with pleasure.

'You like that, don't you Granger.'

He pulled his fingers out, only to help him pull his trousers and boxers halfway down his thighs. Hermione's breath hitched, and Malfoy pulled up her skirt to align their bodies together.

She was so close. So close.

He placed the tip over the wetness, dragging it across the clit to tease before he'd fill her.

'Granger, I don't think you'll be able to take it.'

A ripple of pure pleasure shot through her, causing her hip to spasm and legs to clench. Her toes curled, her breathing fastened, and her eyes rolled open.

Oh shit. Had she really just masturbated to Draco Malfoy?


End file.
